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CARDINAL WOLSEY, 



THE LIFE OF 

CARDINAL WOLSEY 

By MANDELL CREIGHTON 



Bishop of London, M. A. Oxford and Cambridge, D.C.L. 
joi Dtirham, LL.D. of Glasgow and Harvard 



WITH EXPLANATORY NOTES 

By henry KETCHAM 







WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 



A. L. BURT COMPANY, ^ ^ ^ ^ 
d^ ^ J' PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRES'S, 

Two Copies Received 

JUL 18 1903 

Copyriglit Entry 

cuss C c<-- )(Xc No. 

,r ^ O 3 b 
COPY B. 



:s. 



'.4 ^ 



<io\ 



Copyright, 1903, 
By a. L. BURT COMPANY. 



CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The state of Europe, 1494-1512 1 

II. The French Alliance, 1512-1515 SO 

III. The Universal Peace, 1515-1518...., 61 

IV. The Field of the Cloth of Gold, 1518-1520 88 

V. The Conference of Calais, 1520-1521 110 

VI. The Imperial Alliance, 1521-1523 130 

VII. Renewal of Peace, 1523-1527 164 

VIII. Wolsey's Domestic Policy 196 

IX. The King's Divorce, 1527-1529 235 

X. The Fall of Wolsey, 1529-1530 281 

XI. The Work of Wolsey 317 



LIFE or THOMAS WOLSEY. 



CHAPTEE I. 

THE STATE OF EUROPE . 

1494-1512. 

All men are to be judged by what they do, and 
the Avay in which they do it. In the case of great 
statesman there is a third consideration which chal- 
lenges our judgment — what they choose to do. 
This consideration only presents itself in the case of 
great statesmen, and even then is not always recog- 
nized. For the average statesman does from day to 
day the business which has to be done, takes affairs 
as he finds them, and makes the best of them. 
Many who delibet-ately selected the questions with 
which they dealt have yet shrunk from the responsi- 
bility of their choice, and have preferred to repre- 
sent their actions as inevitable. Few can claim the 
credit of choosing the sphere of their activity, of 
framing a connected policy with clear and definite 

1 



2 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

ends, and of applying their ideas to every department 
of national organization. In short, statesmen are gen- 
erally opportunists, or choose to represent themselves 
as such ; and this has been especially the case v^ith 
English statesmen — amongst v\rhom Wolsey stands 
out as a notable exception. For Wolsey claims rec- 
ognition on grounds which apply to himself alone. 
His name is not associated with any great achieve- 
ment, he worked out no great measure of reform, 
nor did he contribute any great political idea which 
was fruitful in after days. He was, above all things, 
a practical man, though he pursued a line of policy 
which few understood, and which he did not stop 
to make intelligible. No very definite results came 
of it immediately, and the results which came of it 
afterwards were not such as Wolsey had designed. 
Yet, if we consider his actual achievements, we are 
bound to admit that he was probably the greatest 
political genius whom England has ever produced ; 
for at a great crisis of European history he impressed 
England with a sense of her own importance, and se- 
cured for her a leading position in European affairs, 
which since his days has seemed her natural right. 

Thus Wolsey is to be estimated by what he chose 
to do rather than by what he did. He was greater 
than his achievements. Yet Wolsey's greatness did 



THE STATE OF EUROPE. 3 

not rise beyond the conditions of his own age, and 
he left no legacy of great thought or high endeavor. 
The age in which he lived was not one of lofty as- 
pirations or noble aims ; but it was one of large de- 
signs and restless energy. IS'o designs were cast in 
so large a mould as were those of Wolsey ; no states- 
man showed such skill as he did in weaving patiently 
the web of diplomatic intrigue. His resources were 
small, and he husbanded them with care. He had 
a master who only dimly understood his objects, and 
whose personal whims and caprices had always to 
be conciliated. He was ill supplied with agents. 
His schemes often failed in detail ; but he was al- 
ways ready to gather together the broken threads 
and resume his work without repining. In a time 
of universal restlessness and excitement Wolsey was 
the most plodding, the most laborious, and the most 
versatile of those who labored at statecraft. 

The field of action which Wolsey deliberately 
chose was that of foreign policy, and his weapons 
were diplomacy. The Englishmen of his time were 
like the Englishmen of to-day, and had little sym- 
pathy with his objects. Those who reaped the 
benefits of his policy gave him no thanks for it, nor 
did they recognize what they owed to him. Those 
who exulted in the course taken by the English Eef - 



4 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

ormation regarded Wolsey as its bitterest foe, and 
never stopped to think that Wolsey trained the hands 
and brains which directed it ; that Wolsey inspired 
England with the proud feeling of independence which 
nerved her to brave the public opinion of Europe ; 
that Wolsey impressed Europe with such a sense of 
England's greatness that she was allowed to go her 
own way, menaced but unassailed. The spirit 
which animated the England of the sixteenth cen- 
tury was due in no small degree to the splendor of 
Wolsey' s successes, and to the way in which he 
stamped upon men's imagination a belief in Eng- 
land's greatness. If it is the characteristic of a 
patriot to believe that nothing is beyond the power 
of his country to achieve, then Wolsey was the 
most devoted patriot whom England ever produced. 
When Wolsey came to power, England was an 
upstart trying to claim for herself a decent position 
in the august society of European states. It was 
Wolsey 's cleverness that set her in a place far above 
that which she had any right to expect. Eor this 
purpose Wolsey schemed and intrigued ; when one 
plan failed he was always ready with another. It 
mattered little what was the immediate object which 
he had in hand ; it mattered much that in pursuing 
it he should so act as to increase the credit of Eng- 



THE STATE OF EUROPE. 5 

land, and create a belief in England's power. 
Diplomacy can reckon few abler practitioners than 
was Wolsey. 

There is little that is directly ennobling in the 
contemplation of such a career. It may be doubted 
if the career of any practical statesman can be a 
really ennobling study if we have all its activity re- 
corded in detail. At the best it tells us of much 
which seems disingenuous if not dishonest — much in 
which nobility of aim or the complexity of affairs 
has to be urged in extenuation of shifty words and 
ambiguous actions. 

The age in which Wolsey lived was immoral in 
the sense in which all periods are immoral, when 
the old landmarks are disappearing and there is no 
certainty about the future. Morality in individuals 
and in states alilve requires an orderly life, a percep- 
tion of limits, a pursuit of definite ends. "When 
order is shattered, when limits are removed, when 
all things seem possible, then political morality dis- 
appears. In such a condition was Europe at the 
beginning of the sixteenth century. The old ideas, 
on which the mediseval conception of Christendom 
depended, were passing away. JSTo one any longer 
regarded Christendom as one great commonwealth, 
presided over by Pope and Emperor, who were the 



6 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

guardians of international law and arbiters of inter- 
national relations. The Empire had long ceased to 
exercise any control, because it was destitute of 
strength. The Papacy, after vainly endeavoring to 
unite Europe round the old cry of a crusade against 
the Turk, had discovered that there was no Eu- 
ropean power on which it could rely for support. 
The old ideas were gone, the old tribunals were 
powerless, the old bonds of European union were 
dissolved. 

The first result of this decay in the mediaeval state- 
system of Europe was the emergence of vague plans 
of a universal monarchy. The Empire and the Pa- 
pacy had harmonized with the feudal conception of 
a regulative supremacy over vassals who were free 
to act within the limits of their obligations to their 
superior lord. When the old superiors were no 
longer recognized, the idea of a supremacy still re- 
mained ; but there was no other basis possible for 
that supremacy than a basis of universal sovereignty 
It was long before any state was sufiiciently power- 
ful to venture on such a claim ; but the end of the 
fifteenth century saw France and Spain united into 
powerful kingdoms. In France, the policy of Louis 
XL succeeded in reducing the great feudatories, and 
established the power of the monarchy as the bond 



THE STATE OF EUROPE. 7 

of union between provinces which were conscious of 
like interests. In Spain, the marriage of Ferdinand 
and Isabella united a warlike people who swept 
away the remains of the Moorish kingdom. Ger- 
many, though nominally it recognized one ruler, 
had sacrificed its national kingship to the futile 
claims of the Empire. The emperor had great pre- 
tensions, but was himself powerless, and the Ger- 
man princes steadily refused to lend him help to give 
reality to his high-sounding claims. Unconsciously 
to themselves, the rulers of France and Spain were 
preparing to attempt the extension of their power 
over the rest of Europe. 

France under Charles YIII. * was the first to give 
expression to this new idea of European politics. 
The Italian expedition of Charles YIII. marked the 
end of the Middle Ages, because it put forth a 
scheme of national aggrandizement which was for- 
eign to medigeval conceptions. The scheme sounded 

* Charles VIII., King of France, was born in 1470 and died 
in 1498. He ascended the throne in 1483. In 1491 he married 
Anne, Duchess of Brittany, who was affianced to Maximilian 
of Austria, to whom she had actually been married by proxy. 
In revenge for this insult, Maximilian declared war against 
Charles and effected an alliance for this purpose with Henry 
VII. of England. Charles managed to settle this matter by 
negotiation and then gave his whole attention to the con- 
quest of Naples. In his personal character he is " represented 
as having been amiable and gracious in the highest degree." 



8 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

fantastic, and was still cast in the mould of mediae- 
val aspirations. The kingdom of ]^aples had long 
been in dispute between the houses of Arragon and 
Anjou. As heir to the Angevin line, Charles YIII. 
proposed to satisfy national pride by the conquest of 
]N"aples. Then he appealed to the old sentiment of 
Christendom by proclaiming his design of advancing 
against Constantinople, expelling the Turk from 
Europe, and realizing the ideal of medieval Chris- 
tianity by planting once more the standard of the 
Cross upon the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem. 

The first part of his plan succeeded with a rapidi- 
ty and ease that bewildered the rest of Europe. The 
French conquest of E'aples awakened men to the 
danger which threatened them. France, as ruler of 
Naples, could overrun the rest of Italy, and as mas- 
ter of the Pope could use the authority of the head 
of Christendom to give legitimacy to further schemes 
of aggression. A sense of common danger drew 
the other powers of Europe together ; and a league 
of Spain, the Empire, the Pope, Milan, and Venice 
forced Charles YIII. to retire from jS'aples (1495), 
where the French conquests were rapidly lost. A 
threat of his return next year led to an emphatic re- 
newal of the League and an assertion of the basis 
on which it rested — "the mutual preservation o( 



THE STATE OF EUROPE. ^ 

states, so that the more powerful might not oppress 
the less powerful, and that each should keep what 
rightly belongs to him." 

This League marks a new departure in European 
affairs. There was no mention of the old ideas on 
which Europe was supposed to rest. There was 
no recognition of papal or imperial supremacy ; no 
principle of European organization was laid down. 
The existing state of things was to be maintained, 
and the contracting powers were to decide amongst 
themselves what rights and claims they thought 
fit to recognize. Such a plan might be useful to 
check French preponderance at the moment, but it 
was fatal to the free development of Europe. The 
states that were then powerful might grow in power ; 
those that were not yet strong were sure to be pre- 
vented from growing stronger. Dynastic interests 
were set up as against national interests. European 
affairs were to be settled by combinations of power- 
ful states. 

The results of this system were rapidly seen. 
France, of course, was checked for the time; but 
France, in its turn, could enter the League and be- 
come a factor in European combinations. The 
problem now for statesmen was how to use this con- 
cert of Europe for their own interests. Dynastic 



10 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

considerations were the most obvious means of gain- 
ing powerful alliances. Eoyal marriages became 
matters of the greatest importance, because a lucky 
union of royal houses might secure a lasting pre- 
ponderance. The Emperor Maximilian married his 
son Philip ^ to a daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella. 
Death removed the nearer heirs to the Spanish 
rulers, and the son of Philip was heir to Austria, 
the ^Netherlands, and the Spanish kingdoms. The 
notion of a maintenance of European equilibrium 
faded away before such a prospect. 

This prospect, however, was only in the future. 
For the present there was an opportunity for end- 
less scheming. The European League for the pres- 
ervation of the existing state of things resisted any 
expansion on the part of smaller states, but encour- 
aged compacts for aggression amongst the more 
powerful. France, Spain, and Germany had each 

* Philip (1478-1506), King of Castile, surnamed " Philip the 
Handsome," was the son of Maximilian I. and Mary of Bur- 
gundy. From his mother he inherited seventeen provinces in 
the Netherlands. His marriage to Joanna, who was imbecile 
or insane, a daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, occurred in 
1496. In early life Philip's title was Archduke of Austria ; 
but on the death of Isabella, in the year 1504, he succeeded, 
through his wife's disability, to the royal power of Castile. 
He was the father of Charles V., emperor of Germany (who 
was also Don Carlos I. of Spain) , and of Ferdinand I. also 
emperor of Germany, 



THE STATE OF EUROPE. ll 

of them a national existence, while Italy consisted 
of a number of small states. If Italy wa^ to sur- 
vive it was necessary that she should follow the 
example of her powerful neighbors, and consolidate 
herself as thfey had done. The only state which 
was at that time likely to unite Italy was Yenice ; 
and Yenice, in consequence, became the object of 
universal jealousy. The concert of Europe was ap- 
plied to the Yenetian question, and discovered a 
solution of the simplest sort. Instead of allowing 
Yenice to unite Italy, it was judged better to divide 
Yenice. A secret agreement was made between 
Spain, France, the Emperor Maximilian, and the 
Pope that they would attack Yenice simultaneously, 
deprive her of her possessions, and divide them 
amongst themselves. There was no lack of claims 
and titles to the possessions which were thus to be 
acquired. The powers of Europe, being judges in 
their own cause, could easily state their respective 
pleas and pronounce each other justified. The 
League of Cambrai,* which was published at the 
end of 1508, was the first great production of the 
new system of administering public law in Eu- 
rope. 

* For the League of Cambria, see below, page 13, note on 
Julius II. 



12 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

Anything more iniquitous could scarcely be con- 
ceived. Yenice deserved well at the hands of 
Europe. She had developed a great system of com- 
merce mth the East ; she was the chief bulwark 
against the advance of the Turkish power ; she was 
the one refuge of Italian independence. Those 
very reasons marked her out for pillage by the 
powers who, claiming to act in the interests of 
Europe, interpreted these interests according to 
their own selfishness. Each power hoped to appro- 
priate some of the profits of Yenetian commerce ; 
each power wished for a slice of the domains of 
Italy. What the Turk did was a matter of little 
consequence ; he was not the object of immediate 
dread. 

This League of Cambrai witnessed the assimila- 
tion by the new system of the relics of the old. Im- 
perial and papal claims were set in the foreground. 
Yenice was excommunicated by the Pope, because 
she had the audacity to refuse to give up to hun at 
once his share of the booty. The iniquities of the 
European concert were flimsily concealed by the rags 
of the old system of the public law of Europe, which 
only meant that the Pope and the Emperor were 
foremost in joining in the general scramble. France 
was first in the field against Yenice, and consequent- 



THE STATE OF EUROPE. 13 

ly Fraince was the chief gainer. Pope Julius II.,* 
having won from Yenice all that he could claim, 
looked with alarm on the increase of the French 
power in Italy. As soon as he had satisfied himself, 
and had reduced Venice to abject submission, his 
one desire was to rid himself of his troublesome 

* Julius II. (1443-1513), who previous to his election to 
the papal chair was known as Giuliano della Rovere, is known 
to lovers of art chiefly for his sumptuous luxury and his 
liberal patronage of the great artists of his time, including 
Michelangelo and Raphael. It was he who, in the last year 
of his life, laid the corner stone of St. Peter's, in Rome. He 
was nephew of Pope Sixtus IV., and through his high con- 
nections, as well as owing to his own talents, he rose rapidly 
to ecclesiastical honors. At the age of twenty-eight he was 
bishop of Carpentras, archbishop of Avignon, a cardinal, and 
he held also eight bishoprics of less prominence. He owed 
his election to the Papacy, in 1503, to the influence of Caesar 
Borgia. He was haughty, of a warlike spirit, and his ambi- 
tion was unbounded ; though the purpose of this ambition 
was rather the glory of the Church than his own personal 
aggrandizement. His great aim was to drive the foreigners 
out of Italy and to free the Papacy from the control of secular 
powers. He drove Caesar Borgia out of the Romagna, and 
endeavored unsuccessfully to drive the Venetians out of 
various parts of his dominions. In 1508 he formed the league 
of Cambrai, between Louis XII., Maximilian, and Ferdinand 
of Aragon, against the Venetian republic. Two years later, 
when the French influence became dominant, he united with 
the Venetians against them. He gained but little by anj' of 
his alliances, as the expulsion of one power was only followed 
by the domination of another power. He formed the Holy 
League (one of several alliances of that name) between the 
English, Spaniards, Swiss, and Venetians, in 1511, and in 1513 
he succeeded in driving the French out of Italy. 



14- LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

allies. The papal authority in itself could no longer 
influence European politics ; but it could give a sanc- 
tion to new combinations which interested motives 
might bring about. With cynical frankness the 
Papacy, powerless in its own resources, used its 
privileged position to further its temporal objects. 
We cannot wonder that Louis XII. of France tried 
to create a schism, and promoted the holding of a 
general council. We are scarcely surprised that the 
fantastic brain of the Emperor Maximilian formed a 
scheme of becoming the Pope's coadjutor, and finally 
annexing the papal to the imperial dignity. On 
every side the old landularks of Europe were disap- 
pearing, and the future was seen to belong to the 
strong hand and the adventurous wit. 

During the reign of Henry YII. England had 
stood aloof from these complicated intrigues. In- 
deed England could not hope to make her voice 
heard in the affairs of Europe. The weak govern- 
ment of Henry YI.,^ and the struggles between the 

* Henry VI. (1421-1471), only son of Henry V. of England 
and Catherine of France, was a contemporary of Joan of 
Arc, and the first part of his career was signalized by the 
loss of the English power in France. In 1445 he married 
Margaret of An jou. In 1451, having lost all his possessions 
in France, he returned to England. While he was remark- 
ably gentle and inoffensive, he was weak to the point of im- 
becility. His reign was at the time of the disastrous civil 



THE STATE OF EUROPEJ. 15 

Yorkist and Lancastrian factions, had reduced her to 
political exhaustion. * While France and Spain had 
gro^vn into strong kingdoms, England had dwindled 

strife known as the Wars of the Roses, and his life was one 
long succession of disasters. He was defeated, imprisoned, 
several times liberated and recaptured, and finally died, or 
was murdered, in prison. His wife, Queen Margaret, fled to 
Scotland after the battle of Northampton, in 1460, and from 
that country she for several years kept up tlie war against 
the English with a vigor that gave her husband's enemies no 
little trouble. For a good interpretation of Henry's traits 
and of the leading events of his reign, the reader is referred 
to Shakspeare's drama, " Henry VI.," in three parts. 

* The Wars of the Roses were the scourge of England for 
thirty years. "These ducal ups and downs gradually 
separated the whole nation into^he two parties of York and 
Lancaster, and led to those terrible civil wars long known as 
the Wars of the Red and White Roses, because the Red Rose 
was the badge of the House of Lancaster, and the White Rose 
was the badge of the House of York 

"Some of the best men, seeing the danger of these con- 
stant changes, tried even then to prevent the Red and White 
Rose Wars. They brought about a great council in London 
between the two parties. The White Roses assembled in 
Blackfriars, and the Red Roses in Whitefriars ; and some 
good priests communicated between them, and made the 
proceedings known at even to the King and the judges. They 
ended in a peaceful agreement that there should be no more 
quarreling ; and there was a great royal possession to St. 
Paul's, in which the Qaeen walked arm-in-arm with her old 
enemy, the Duke of York, to show the people how comfort- 
able they all were. This state of peace lasted half a year, 
when a dispute between the Earl of Warwick (one of the 
Duke's powerful friends) and some of the King's servants at 
Court, led to an attack upon that Earl — who was a White 
Rose — and to a sudden breaking out of ail the old animosities. 



1Q LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

into a third-rate power. Henry YIL* had enough 
to do in securing his own throne against pretenders, 
and in reducing the remnants of the feudal nobility 
to obedience. He so far worked in accordance with 
the prevailing spirit that he steadily increased the 
royal power. He fell in with the temper of the 

So, here were greater ups and downs than ever. There were 
even greater ups and downs than these, soon after." Dickens, 
Child's History of England, Chapter xxii. 

The cause of these wars was that both parties claimed the 
right of succession to the tlirone by reason of their descent 
from Edward III., who died in 1377, leaving the crown to 
his grandson, Richard II. The wars lasted from 1455 to 1485, 
and were exceedingly bloody. During their progress the 
nobility of England was very nearly w^iped out. These wars 
were brought to an end by the victory of Henry VII., at Bos- 
worth in 1485. See note on Henry VII. 

* Henry VII. (1456-1509), founder of the line of Tudors 
and father of Henry VIII., was a son of Edmond Tudor, Earl 
of Eichmond, and Margaret Beaufort, of the line of John of 
Gaunt, head of the house of Lancaster. He was leader of the 
Lancastrian forces against the iniquitous Richard III., and by 
the defeat and death of Richard at the battle of Bosworth, in 
1485, he became king. (See Shakspeare's Richard HI.) He 
was in the main a prudent and vigorous king, but his rapa- 
cious and grasping disposition was a bar to his popularity 
even in his own party. His daughter Margaret wedded 
James IV, of Scotland, and this act was the first step in the 
union of the two countries. His son Arthur married Katha- 
rine of Aragon, who was afterwards wife of Henry VIII, 
Arthur's younger brother. The entire period of the reign of 
Henry VII. ^vas characterized by momentous changes : two 
of the most noteworthy events were the discovery of America 
and the invention of printing. 



THE STATE OF EUROPE. 17 

time, and formed matrimonial alliances which might 
bear political fruits. He gave his daughter in mar- 
riage to the King of Scotland, in the hopes of there- 
by bringing the Scottish Crown into closer relation 
with England. He sought for a connexion with 
Spain by marrying his eldest son Arthur to Katha- 
rine,* a daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, and on 
Arthur's untunelv death Katharine became the wife 
of his next son Henry. Further, Henry YII. gave 
his general approval to the League of 1496 ; he 

* Katharine of Aragon (1486-1536) was married to Arthur, 
eldest son of Henry VII., and heir apparent to the throne of 
England, in 1501, both parties being at the time fifteen years 
of age. Arthur died the next year, and a year later, in 1503, 
she was affianced to Prince Henry, afterward Henry VIII., 
Avho M'as six years younger than herself, and the marriage 
was solemnized soon after he ascended the throne in 1509. 
Tlie proceedings for the divorce which was finally secured, 
were begun in 1537. Katharine died in 1536. 

Ludovico Falier, a Venetian ambassador who resided in 
London from 1528 to 1531, describes Queen Katharine in the 
following words : — ' ' My lady the queen is low of stature, in- 
clining to corpulency, a handsome woman, of great repute, 
upright, and full of goodishness and devotion. She speaks 
Spanish, Flemish, French, and English. She is beloved by 
these islanders far more than any queen they have had. She 
is forty-five years old, thirty of which have passed since the 
death of her first husband. By the present king she has had 
two sons and a daughter. One of these sons died at the age 
of six months. The second lived scarcely long enough to be 
baptized. There remains only the daughter, sixteen years 
old, a beautiful, kind, and most accomplished princess, not at 
all inferior to her mother," 
2 



IS LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

joined it, but would promise no armed aid nor money. 
In short, lie did enough to claim for England a 
place in the new system of the European common- 
wealth, though he himself declined to take any 
active part in the activity that was consequently de- 
veloped. He was old before his years, and was un- 
equal to any additional labor. He had saved his 
reputation by his cautious and skilful policy at home. 
The statesmen of Europe respected him for what he 
had done already, but they did not expect hun to 
do anything more. He had secured his djniasty, 
reduced his lands to order, favored its commerce, 
and secured for it peace. He had lived frugally and 
had saved money, which was not the fortune of the 
more adventurous princes. England was looked 
upon with an eye of condescending favor by the great 
powers of Europe. Her population was small, about 
three millions and a half ; her military forces had not 
been trained in the new methods of European war- 
fare ; her navy was not kept up on a war footing. 
She could not rank higher than a third-rate power. 
So England stood when Henry YII. died, and 
was succeeded by his son Henry YHI. , a youth of 
nineteen. We may indulge ourselves, if we choose, 
in speculations on the probable effects if Henry 
YIIL had been content to pursue his father's policy. 



THE STATE OF EUROPE. 19 

The picture of England, peaceful and contented 
while the rest of Europe is engaged in wasteful and 
wicked war, is attractive as an ideal in English 
politics. England in the sixteenth century might 
have stood aloof from European affairs, and might 
have prospered in her own fashion. But one thing 
is certain, that she would never have become the 
England of to-day ; the New World, and the pos- 
sessions of the British Empire, would have been 
divided between France and Spain; the course of 
civilization would have been widely different. For 
good or for evil the fortunes of England were given 
a decided direction by Henry YIII.'s advance into 
the sphere of European politics. England took up 
a position from which she could not afterwards 
retire. 

It is scarcely worth while to inquire if Henry 
YIII. could by prudence and caution have continued 
to keep clear of the complications of European pol- 
itics, and make England strong by husbanding its 
resources and developing its commerce. Such a 
course of action was not deemed possible by any 
one. All classes alike believed that national pros- 
perity followed upon the assertion of national power. 
The commercial interests of England would have 
had little chance of being respected unless they 



20 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

were connected with political interests as well. If 
Henry YIII. had lived frugally like his father, and 
avoided adventurous schemes for which he needed 
the money of his people, the English monarchy 
would have become a despotism, and the royal will 
would have been supreme in all internal affairs. 
England was not exposed to this danger. Henry 
YIII. , when he ascended the throne at the age of 
nineteen, was fully imbued by the spirit of his time. 
The story goes that when Leo X. was elected Pope 
he turned to his brother and said with a smile, 
'' Let us enjoy the Papacy, since God has given it 
to us." Henry YIII. was resolved to enjoy his 
kingship to the full ; he wished to show Europe that 
he was every inch a king, and equal to the best. 

Henry YIII. in his early days had been educated 
with a view to high ecclesiastical preferment, and 
was a youth of many accomplishments of mind and 
body. His tall stalwart frame, his fair round face 
and profusion of light hair, his skill in athletic exer- 
cises, made the Yenetian envoy pronounce him to be 
the handsomest and most capable king in Christen- 
dom."^ He inherited the geniality, the physical 

* Ludovico Falier, as quoted by Lingard, describes Henry 
Vin. in the following words : 

" His features are, I will not say beautiful ; they are an- 
gelic. His look is commanding, but gentle. Contrary to the 



THE STATE OF EUROPE. 21 

strength, the resoluteness of the Yorkist house, and 
combined them with the self-restraint and caution 

English fashion, he wears his beard. Who can look at him, 
when he is in action, without astonishment, so surpassing is 
the beauty of his person, so winning the ease and graceful- 
ness of his manner. He sits well on horseback ; he is com- 
pletelj'- master of his steed ; he tilts, and bears his lance 
nobly ; he draws the sword and the bow admirably, and plays 
at tennis with extraordinary skill. He applied to the belles- 
lettres from his childhood, afterwards to the study of phi- 
losophy and theolog}^ so that he has acquired the name of a 
learned and accomplished prince. Besides the Latin and his 
mother tongue, he learned the Spanish, French, and Italian 
languages. He is affable, gracious, ver}- polite and courteous ; 
and liberal in his presents, especially to men of learning. 
Yet with all his knowledge and acuteness, he allowed himself 
to fall into amorous pursuits so far that, thinking only of his 
pleasures, he left the government of his kingdom to his most 
trusty ministers, till the time when he began to persecute the 
cardinal of York [Cardinal Wolsey]. From that moment he 
has been quite enamored with his own management, and is 
become quite another man. He was generous, is now covet- 
ous ; and, as formerly no one took leave of him without a satis- 
factory present, now every one goes away in discontent. He 
appears to be devout. He generally hears two low masses ; and 
the high mass also on festivals. He is exceedingly charitable to 
orphans and widows, to young maidens, and persons wounded 
or maimed, to the amount of about 10,000 ducats [$22,800.] 
a 3^ear, He is beloved by all. He is determined on effecting 
a divorce. His object is to have a legitimate male issue ; and 
as he has no hope of having such by my lady Katherine, he 
will assuredly marry his favorite, a daughter of the earl of 
Wiltshire. There cannot be a doubt that such a marriage 
will take place ; after which it is possible that his majesty 
may be troubled with insurrections on the part of those who 
favor the queen : for she is so much beloved and revered by 
the people that they begin already to show their discontent." 



22 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

of the Lancastrians. JSTo king began his reign with 
greater popularity, and the belief in the soundness 
of his head and heart filled all men with hopes of a 
long period of just and prosperous government. 
But many hoped for more than this. The reign of 
Henry YII. had been successful, but inglorious. 
The strong character and the generous impulses of 
the new ruler were not likely to be satisfied with 
the cautious intrigues and petty calculations of his 
father. England looked forward to a glorious and 
distinguished future. It believed in its king, and 
clave to its belief in spite of many disappointments. 
E'ot all the harsh doings of Henry YIII. exhausted 
the popularity with which he began his reign, and 
in the midst of his despotism he never lost his hold 
upon the people. 

So Henry YIII. carried out the plan which his 
father had formed for him. He married Katharine, 
his brother's widow, and so confirmed the alliance 
with Ferdinand of Spain.* He renewed the marri- 

* This marriage between Henry VIII. and Katharine of 
Aragon led to momentous consequences a generation later. 
After Henry put away Katharine, he married Anne Boleyn 
to whom was born Elizabeth. The Spanish nation could 
never forgive the insult shown in the divorce of Queen Kath- 
arine, and it was out of the question for Philip II. of Spain 
to acknowledge the legitimacy of Elizabeth or to make an 
alliance with her ; and to his dying day he never gave up th§ 



THE STATE OF EUROPE. 23 

age treaty between his sister Mary and Charles, 
Prince of Castile, heir of the Netherlands, and eld- 
est grandson of Ferdinand and Maximilian alike. 
Charles was only a boy of nine, and had great pros- 
pects of a large heritage. England was likely, if 
this arrangement were carried out, to be a useful 
but humble ally to the projects of the houses of 
Hapsburg and Spain, useful because of its position, 
which commanded the Channel, and could secure 
communications between the ]N"etherlands and Spain, 
humble because it had little military reputation or 
capacity for dij)lomacy. 

The alliance,* however, between Ferdinand and 

hope of invading that country. It is true that England came 
out of the conflict with great glory, but it was at the cost of 
millions of money and many thousands of brave men. 

* The alliance here referred to is the League of Cambrai. 
But beyond this, the two emperors were allied by the mar- 
riage between Philip the Handsome, son of Maximilian, and 
the Infanta of Spain. This marriage, however, was not only 
an alliance, it was a cause of jealousy ; for it raised questions 
concerning the succession of both empires, that caused no 
little anxiety to the two emperors. 

Maximilian I. (1459-1519), emperor of Germany, was one 
of the most powerful of European monarchs. His first wife 
was Mary of Burgundy, who left him two children : Philip 
and Margaret. After the death of Mary of Burgundy, Mar- 
garet was betrothed to the Dauphin of France, who was 
afterward Charles VIII., but the latter refused to keep his 
marriage engagement. This led to a war, and though matters 
were arranged by negotiation — Charles consenting to pay a 



24: LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

Maximilian was by no means close. Ferdinand by 
his marriage with Isabella had united the kingdoms 
of Castile and Arragon; but after Isabella's death 
he had no claim to the Crown of Castile, which 
passed to his daughter Juana. Already Juana's 
husband, the Archduke Philip, had claimed the 
regency of Castile, and Ferdinand was only saved 
by Philip's death from the peril of seeing much of 

(io^viy — the relations between the two kings never became 
friendly. Maximilian greatly enlarged the German army and 
introduced effective discipline. He was a liberal patron of 
learning. He was succeeded by his grandson, Charles V., 
who was also grandson of Ferdinand, and who was known 
also as Don Carlos I., of Spain. 

Ferdinand (1452-1516), surnamed the Catholic, was king of 
Castile and Aragon. His wife Isabella was the patron of 
Columbus in his discovery of America. The fame of these 
two monarchs is sullied by the establishment, or the enlarge- 
ment, of the Inquisition. On the other hand, they were mu- 
nificent patrons of learning, and universities were founded 
throughout the kingdom for tlie education of the Spanish. 
The conquest of Grenada, and the opening of the newly dis- 
covered America, with the conquest of Mexico, Peru, etc., 
gave Spain a glorious empire. It was a warlike age, and 
Ferdinand, perpetually engaged in one or more of his numer- 
ous wars, had little chance to enjoy the triumphs of Peace. 
" As a sovereign, he was brave, affable, indefatigable in busi- 
ness, temperate in his habits, and strongly attached to the 
Catholic religion ; but he was bigoted, cruel, selfish in the 
extreme, and ungenerous to those to whom he was greatly 
indebted. For shrewdness and policy he excelled every other 
monarch of his age." He, like Maximilian, was succeeded 
by his grandson, Charles V. of Germany, who was also Don 
Carlos I. of Spain. 



THE STATE OF EUROPE. 25 

his work undone. The claim to Castile had now 
passed to the young Charles, and Ferdinand was 
afraid lest Maximilian should at any time revive it 
in behalf of his grandson. He Avas unwilling to 
help in any way to increase Maximilian's power, 
and rejoiced that in the results of the League of 
Cambrai little profit fell to Maximilian's share. The 
Pope gained all that he wished ; Ferdinand acquired 
without a blow the Venetian possessions in the 
Neapolitan kingdom ; the French arms were trium- 
phant in North Italy ; but Yenice continued to offer 
a stubborn resistance to Maximilian. In vain Maxi- 
milian implored Ferdinand's help. He was un- 
moved till the successes of the French awakened in 
his mind serious alarm. The authors of the League 
of Cambrai began to be afraid of the catastrophe 
which they had caused. They did not wish to see 
the French supreme in Italy, but their combination 
had gone far to ensure the French supremacy. 

Pope Julius 11. felt himself most directly threatened 
by the growth of the French power. He resolved 
to break up the League of Cambrai, and so undo 
his own work, He tried to gain support from the 
Swiss and from England. He released Yenice 
from her excommunication, and showed hunself 
steadfastly opposed to France. He did his utmost 



^0 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

to induce Ferdinand and Maximilian to renounce 
the League. Ferdinand was cautious, and only gave 
his secret countenance to the Pope's designs. Maxi- 
milian, anxious to make good his claims against 
Yenice, wavered between an alliance with France 
and a rupture. Louis XII. of France was embar- 
rassed by the hostility of the Pope, whom he tried 
to terrify into submission. His troops advanced 
against Bologna, where Julius II. was residing. 
The Pope fled, but the French forces did not pur- 
sue him. Louis was not prepared to treat the Pope 
as merely a temporal sovereign, and Rome was spared 
a siege. But Louis was so iU-judging as to attack 
the Pope on his spiritual side. He raised the old 
cry of a General Council for the reform of the 
Church, and drew to his side a few disaffected car- 
dinals, who summoned a Council to assemble at 
Pisa. 

This half-hearted procedure was fatal to all hopes 
of French supremacy. Had Louis XII. promptly 
dealt with Julius II. by force of arms he would 
have rendered the Pope powerless to interfere with 
his political plans, and no one would have inter- 
posed to help the Pope in his capacity of an Italian 
prince. But when the French king showed that he 
was afraid of the papal dignity in temporal matters, 



THE STATE OF EUROPE. ^^ 

while lie was ready to attack it in spiritual matters 
lie entered upon a course of action which was dan- 
gerous to Europe. Ferdinand was waiting for a 
good pretext to free himself from further share in 
the policy of the League of Cambrai, and Louis 
provided him with the pretext which he sought. 
Shocked at the danger of a new schism, Ferdinand, 
in October 1511, entered into a League Avith the 
Pope and Venice, a League which took the high- 
sounding title of the Holy League,"^ since it was 
formed for the protection of the Papacy. 

Of this Holy League Henry YIII. became a 
member in December, and so stepped boldly into 
the politics of Europe. He was at first a submis- 
sive son of King Ferdinand, whose daughter. Queen 
Katharine, acted as Spanish ambassador at the Eng- 
lish Court. Henry wished to make common cause 

* The phrase " Holy League " is not uncommon in historj^, 
and the one here mentioned is one of half a dozen of the 
same name. The real occasion of this was the success of the 
League of Cambrai, formed in 1508, or rather, certain results 
that followed that success. By the latter alliance, the Pope, 
Julius 11. , had brought the French into his dominions to drive 
out the Venetians ; but when that object was accomplished, 
his holiness found the presence of the French quite as dis- 
agreeable to him as that of the Venetians had been, and so it 
was necessary to form this new alliance, the Holy League, to 
drive out the French. This plan of using one nation to drive 
out another, proved to be very nearly an endless chain. 



28 LIFBl OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

with his father-in-law, and trusted implicitly to 
him for assurances of goodwill. He made a sepa- 
rate accord with Ferdinand that a combined army 
should invade Guienne. If the French were de- 
feated Ferdinand would be able to conquer ]^a- 
varre, and England would seize Guienne. The 
gain to England would be great, as Guienne would 
be a secure refuge for English commerce, and its 
possession would make the English king an impor- 
tant personage in Europe, for he would stand be- 
tween Spain and France. 

The scheme was not fantastic or impossible, pro- 
vided that Ferdinand was in earnest. Henry be- 
lieved in his good faith, but he still had the confi- 
dence of youth. Ferdinand trusted no one, and if 
others were like himself he was wise in his distrust. 
Every year he grew more suspicious and fonder of 
crooked ways. He took no man's counsel; he 
made fair professions on every side; his only ob- 
ject was to secure himself at the least cost. His 
confiding son-in-law was soon to discover that Fer- 
dinand only meant to use English gold as a means 
for furthering his own designs against France ; he 
did not intend that England should have any share 
in the advantage. 

Unconscious of the selfishness of his ally, Henry 



THE STATE OF EUROPE. 29 

YIII. prepared for war in the winter of 1512. In 
these preparations the capacity of Thomas Wolsey 
first made itself felt, and the course of the war that 
followed placed Wolsey foremost in the confidence 
of the English king. 



CHAPTEE II. 

THE FEENCH ALLIANCE. 

1512-1515. 

Thomas Wolsey was born at Ipswich,* probablj^ 
in March 1471. He was the son of Robert Wolsey 
^nd Joan his wife. Contemporary slander, wishing 
to make his fortunes more remarkable or his pre- 
sumption more intolerable, represented his father as 
a man of mean estate, a butcher by trade. How- 
ever, Robert Wolsey' s will shows that he was a 
man of good position, probably a grazier and wool 
merchant, with relatives who were also well-to-do. 
Thomas seems to have been the eldest of his family, 
and his father's desire was that he should enter the 
priesthood. He showed quickness in study; so 
much so that he went to Oxford at the early age of 

* Ipswich, the birthplace of Cardinal Wolsey, is sixty-six 
miles northeast of London. It is a very old town, and was 
twice burnt by the Danes : once in the year 991, and again in 
1000. William the Conqueror (1025-1087) strengthened it by 
the building of a castle which has long since gone to ruins. 
It is, in a small way, an educational centre, having a number 
of schools ; the grammar school was restored by Wolsey. 
The present population is about 50,000. 

30 



THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 31 

eleven, and became Bachelor of Arts when he was 
fifteen. His studies do not seem to have led him in 
the direction of the new learning;* he was well 
versed in the theology of the schools, and is said to 
have been a devoted adherent to the system of St. 
Thomas Aquinas, f But it was not by the life of a 

* The New Learning was the name given in England to 
that intellectual awakening of Europe that was led by the 
Renaissance in Italy. The pre-eminent leader of the intel- 
lectual, as distinguished from the artistic, phase of this move- 
ment, was the famous scholar Erasmus (1465?-1536). The 
leaders in England were Sir Thomas More, Colet, and War- 
ham, besides Erasmus himself. The latter, though not an 
Englishman, was welcomed in that country, and he spent, in 
all, five or six years in forwarding the movement in connec- 
tion with the universities. More's celebrated book, Utopia 
(meaning Noivhere), is an excellent exposition of the spirit of 
the New Learning. See also below, p. 156, note. 

t Thomas Aquinas (1225 ?-1274), called " the Angelic Doc- 
tor " because of the purity of his life, was born near Naples, 
studied under Albertus Magnus, and taught and preached in 
Paris and Rome. His talents brought him many offers of 
ecclesiastical promotion, all of whicli he modestly and humbly 
refused. One well-known anecdote illustrates the wit and 
spii'it of the man. He was once in the presence of Pope In- 
nocent IV., before whom a large sum of money was spread 
out. " You see," said the Pope, " the Chm-ch is no longer in 
that age in which she said, ' Silver and gold liave I none.'" 
" True, holy father," quickly responded the doctor ; *- neither 
can she any longer say to the lame. Rise up and walk." 
Hallam says : "The greatest of the schoolmen were the Do- 
minican Thomas Aquinas, and the Franciscan Duns Scotus. 
They were founders of rival sects, which wrangled with each 
other for two or three centuries." His most important work 
was entitled Summa TheologicB, or Sum of Theology. 



32 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

student or the principles of a philosopher that Wol- 
sey rose to eminence. If he learned anything in 
his University career he learned a knowledge of men 
and of their motives. 

In due course he became a Fellow of Magdalen,* 



* Magdalen (pronounced Maudlin) College in the University 
of Oxford was founded by William Waynflete, bishop of 
Winchester. In 1448 he obtained a royal licence for the 
foundation of an academical hall at Oxford, under the patron- 
age of St. Mary Magdalen. Just ten years later, the founder 
issued a formal charter establishing the College of "the blessed 
Mary Magdalen, commonly called Magdalen College. The 
foundation stone was laid in 1474, and the building is one of 
the most beautiful of mediaeval or modern times. 

Wolsey's connection with Oxford dates from an early 
period of his life, for he was made Bachelor of Arts at fifteen 
years of age ' which,' Cavendish notes, ' was a rare thing and 
seldom seen,' and led to his being called ' the Boy Bachelor.' 
In 1497 his name occurs in a list of Masters of Arts holding 
Fellowships at Magdalen College, and in the following year 
he was one of the bursars of that wealthy institution. For 
six months he acted as master of the school established there 
by William Waynflete, and he had among his pupils the three 
sons of the Marquess of Dorset, through whose favor he was 
destined to obtain his first ecclesiastical benefice. Neverthe- 
less John Skelton, the poet, does not scruple to deride him as 
an unlearned man : — 

' He was but a poor master of art 
God wot, had little part 
Of the quadrivals 
Nor yet of trivials 
Nor of philosophy. 

His Latin tongue doth hobble. 



THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 33 

and master of the grammar school attached to the 
College. Soon afterwards, in 1498, he was bursar; 

He doth but clout and cobble 
In Tully's faculty.' 

A greater poet than Skelton has recorded the opinion of the 
next generation very differently : — 

' This Cardinal 
Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly 
Was fashion'd to much honor, from his cradle. 
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one ; 
Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading : 
Lofty and sour to them that lov'd him not, 
But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer.' 
(Shakspeare, Henry the Eighth, Act iv., sc. 2.) 

" Wolsey was senior bursar of Magdalen College in 1499 and 
1500, and in the latter year he retired to a living in Somerset- 
shire. While he was being rapidly promoted from benefice to 
benefice, he maintained friendly relations with his former col- 
leagues at Oxford, and in 1510 he took the degree of Bachelor 
of Divinity. During his brief occupation of the see of Lincoln, 
the resident graduates of the University began to recognize 
his growing power in the State, and wrote to solicit his as- 
sistance in defence of their privileges. A few months later, 
when he was Archbishop of York, they addressed him as 
their Maecenas, their intercessor, their patron, their spokes- 
man, and their special advocate at Court. A little later, they 
wrote again, saying that their hopes depended on him alone, 
and that tliey had resolved to raise him to the highest degree 
in Divinity. In a subsequent letter they spontaneously prom- 
ised that his name sliould be commemorated by their public 
preachers at Oxford and in London alike. When at last they 
found it difficult to devise any new compliments for the all- 
powerful Cardinal, tliey sought to gratify his vanity by ap- 
plying to him tlie title of Blajestas, in some cases three or four 
times in the course of a letter." 

Lyte, History of the University of Oxford, 

, 3 



34 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

and tradition has connected with him the building 
of the graceful tower which is one of the chief arch- 
itectural ornaments of Oxford. Unfortunately the 
tower was finished in the year in which Wolsey be- 
came bursar, and all that he can have done was the 
prosaic duty of paying the bills for its erection. 
He continued his work of schoolmaster till in 1500 
the Marquis of Dorset, whose sons Wolsey had taught, 
gave him the living of Lymington in Somerset. 

So Wolsey abandoned academic life for the quiet- 
ness of a country living, which, however, did not 
prove to be entirely free from troubles. For some 
reason which is not clear, a neighboring squire, Sir 
Amyas Paulet,* used his power as justice of peace 
to set Wolsey in the stocks, an affront which Wolsey 
did not forgive, but in the days of his power pun- 
ished by confining Sir Amyas to his London house, 
where he lived for some years in disgrace. If this 
story be true, it is certainly not to Wolsey' s dis- 
credit, who can have been moved by nothing but a 
sense of injustice in thus reviving the remembrance 
of his own past history. Moreover, Wolsey 's char- 

* Sir Amyas Paulet (died 1538) was brought up a Lancas- 
trian. He was attainted after Buckingham's rebellion, but 
was restored in 1485. He held various offices in his own 
count}'' of Somerset, and became one of the most prominent 
of the west country gentlemen. 



THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 35 

acter certainly did not suffer at the time, as in 1501 
he was made chaplain to Dean,"^ Archbishop of 
Canterbury. After Dean's death in 1503, his capa- 
city for business was so far established that he was 
employed by Sir E-ichard Nanfan,f Deputy-Lieu- 
tenant of Calais, to help him in the duties of a post 
which advancing years made somewhat onerous. 
When Nanfan, a few years afterwards, retired 
from public life, he recommended Wolsey to the 
king, and Wolsey entered the royal service as chap- 
lain probably in 1506. 

At Court Wolsey allied himself with Richard 
Fox, J Bishop of Winchester, Lord Privy Seal, and 

* Henry Deane, Archbishop of Canterbury, was the close 
friend and councillor of Henry VII., who gave him much 
employment in affairs of state. His principal success in 
diplomacy was the arrangement of the marriage of Margaret, 
King Henry's daughter, with James IV. of Scotland. He was 
never installed at Canterbury, probably on the ground of 
expense ; and it is greatly to his credit that, in that age of 
ecclesiastical luxury, he, the Primate of England, lived and 
died poor. 

f Sir Richard Nanfan, or Nanphant, received many honors 
and emoluments under Henry VII. In 1489 he was sent on a 
mission to Spain and Portugal, and had an interview with 
Ferdinand and Isabella. Later he was deputy of Calais, 
where he became patron of Wolsey and made him known to 
the king. He died in 1507. 

X Richard Fox (1466-1528) was a prominent ecclesiastic and 
statesman under Henry VIL, whose favor and confidence he 
maintained until the death of the latter. Previous to 1500 bo 



36 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

at first seems to have acted as one of his secre- 
taries. 

Fox was a well- trained and careful oiScial, who 
had been in Henry YII.'s employment all through 
his reign. Cold and cautious by nature, Henry 
YII. had to pick his way through many difficulties, 
and took no man unreservedly into his confidence. 
He was his own minister, and chose to be served by 
men of distinguished position who were content to 
do his bidding faithfully, and were free from per- 
sonal ambition. For this purpose ecclesiastics were 
best adapted, and Henry YII. did much to secular- 
ize the Church by throwing the weight of public 
business into the hands of men like Morton and Fox, 
whom he rewarded by the highest ecclesiastical 
offices. In such a school Wolsey was trained as a 
statesman. He regarded it as natural that the King 
should choose his ministers for their readiness to 
serve his purposes, and should reward them by 
ecclesiastical preferments. The State might gain by 
such a plan, but the Church undoubtedly lost ; and 

held the bishopric of several sees, and at that date he was 
appointed to the important see of Winchester. In sympathy 
with the New Learning, he founded the College of Corpus 
Christi, Oxford, with a chair of Greek and Latin. As states- 
man, he was Keeper of the Seal, secretary of state, and several 
times ambassador to foreign courts. When Henry VIII. be- 
came king, Fox was succeeded by Wolsey. 



THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 37 

in following the career of "Wolsey there is little to 
remind us of the ecclesiastic, however much we may 
admire the statesman. 

It was well for England that Wolsey was trained 
in the traditions of the policy of Henry YII. , which 
he never forgot. Henry YII. auued, in the first 
place, at securing his throne and restoring quiet and 
order in his kingdom by developing trade and com- 
merce. For this purpose he strove to turn his for- 
eign neighbors into allies without adventuring into 
any military enterprises. He did not aspire to 
make England great, but he tried to make her 
secure and prosperous. Wolsey gained so much 
insight into the means which he employed for that 
end that he never forgot their utility ; and though 
he tried to pass beyond the aim of Henry YII., he 
preferred to extend rather than abandon the means 
which Henry YII. had carefully devised. Nor was 
Wolsey merely a spectator of Henry YII.' s diplo- 
macy ; he was soon employed as one of its agents. 
In the spring of 1508 he was sent to Scotland to 
keep King James lY. true to his alliance with Eng- 
land, and explain misunderstandings that had arisen. 
In the autumn of the same year he Avas sent to 
Mechlin to win over the powerful minister of Maxi- 
milian, the Bishop of Gurk, to a project of mar- 



38 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

riage between Henry YII. and Maximilian's daugh- 
ter Margaret, by which Henry hoped that he would 
get control of the Low Countries. Here Wolsey 
learned his first practical lesson of diplomatic meth- 
ods, and uttered the complaint, which in later years 
he gave so much reason to others to pour forth, 
* ' There is here so much inconstancy, mutability, 
and little regard of promises and causes, that in 
their appointments there is little trust or surety ; for 
things surely determined to be done one day are 
changed and altered the next. ' ' 

Nothing came of "Woisey's embassy, nor can we 
be sure that Henry YII. was much in earnest in his 
marriage schemes. However, he died in April next 
year, and was succeeded by a son whose matrimo- 
nial hesitations were destined to give Wolsey more 
trouble than those of his father. Before his death 
he laid the foundation of Wolsey's clerical fortunes 
by bestowing on him the rich deanery of Lincoln. 

The accession of Henry YIII. made little change 
in the composition of the King's Council. The 
Lady Margaret survived her son long enough to 
make her influence felt in the choice of her grand- 
son's advisers. Archbishop Warham,* Bishop 

1 William Warham (1450 ?-1554) was, with Erasmus, Colet, 
and More, a leader of the New Learning. He was Keeper of 



THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. $9 

Fox, and Thomas Howard,* Earl of Surrey, were 
the men into whose hands public business natu- 
rally fell. But Warham was somewhat stiff and 
crabbed, so that he did not commend himself to the 
young king. Fox represented the opinions of the 
old officials, while the Earl of Surrey was the 
natural leader of the old nobility, who could not 
help resenting the subordinate position into which 
they had been reduced by Hemy YII. , and hoped 
that a new reign would give them fresh opportuni- 
ties. So Fox urged caution and carefulness, while 

the Great Seal from 1502 to 1515. In 1504 he was raised to 
the archbishopric of Canterbury, the highest ecclesiastical 
preferment in England. 

* Thomas Howard (1473 ?-1547) was eminent as a soldier 
and statesman. He was the third Duke of Norfolk, and son 
of Thomas Howard, the second Duke of Norfolk. *'In 
1513 he was chosen high admiral of England, and, in co- 
operation with his father, defeated tlie Scotch at the battle of 
Flodden. For this service he was made Earl of Surrey, while 
his father was made Duke of Norfolk. In 1523 he became 
lord high treasurer, and in 1524, at the death of his father, 
inherited his title. His devotion to the Church of Rome 
made him hostile to Anne Boleyn, though she was his 
own niece. After Henry VIII. had married Catherine 
Howard, the Duke, who was her uncle, had much influence 
in the royal councils, and used it for the persecution of the 
Protestants. In 1547 he was arrested on a charge of treason, 
and ordered for execution ; but before the fatal day came, 
the king died. Norfolk was released from prison in 1553, and 
died the next year. His son, the Earl of Surrey, was executed 
in 1547." — Lippincott's Pronouncing Biographical Dictionary, 



40 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

Surrey favored extravagance and military ambition. 
Fox felt that he was growing old, and the pres- 
sure of a continued conflict of opinion was irk- 
some to him. Much as the ecclesiastics of that 
time were secular in their lives, they were rarely 
entirely forgetful of their priestly office, and were 
genuinely anxious to rid themselves of the burden 
of affairs and spend their last years in quiet. So 
Fox chose Wolsey as the man to take his place, 
perhaps because he saw in him the qualities neces- 
sary to influence the young king. Besides him he 
favored Ruthal, another experienced official, who 
was rewarded by the rich bishopric of Durham, but 
who was soon eclipsed by the superior genius of 
Wolsey, which he frankly admitted, and willingly 
accepted the post of Wolsey' s assistant and subordi- 
nate. 

So Wolsey was made the king's almoner, and 
had sundry preferments bestowed on him as marks 
of the royal favor. He ingratiated himself with 
the king, and worked with Fox and Ruthal to coun- 
teract the influence of the Earl of Surrey. Prob- 
ably in 1511 he was called to the King's Council, 
but neither he nor Fox had it in their power to 
shape the king's policy as they wished, or to direct 
his doings. His warlike ardor was against their 



THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 4.± 

will; but from the beginning of his reign Henry 
YIII. went his own way, and others had to fol- 
low. All they could do was to show him that 
they were the most capable of his servants, and 
when Henry YIII. had determined on war they 
were the men to whom he turned to carry out the 
necessary details. On Wolse}?- as the youngest the 
chief labor was thrown. England was unprepared 
for war, and every branch of the military service 
had to be almost created. "Wolsey had at all events 
a sufficient opportunity for displaying his practical 
capacity as an organizer. 

So Wolse}^ worked at providing for the troops 
who were sent to Guienne in 1512; but the expe- 
dition itself was a complete failure. Ferdinand 
played his own game of procrastination, and sent 
no succors. The Marquis of Dorset was an inca- 
pable leader. The English troops were not inured 
to hardships, and soon grew discontented; at last 
they rose in open mutiny, and clamored to be led 
back to England. Dorset was driven to retire 
without striking a blow. The first attempt of Eng- 
land to assert her prowess ended in disaster. The 
statesmen of the Continent made merry over the 
blundering efforts of an upstart power. '' The 
English, ' ' they said, ' ' are so unaccustomed to war 



42 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

that they have no experience to guide them." 
Henry longed to wipe out this disgrace, and pre- 
pared to invade the north of France in the next 
year. "Wolsey was not yet of suiiicient importance 
to direct the king's policy, and had no experience 
of war. But he threw himself heart and soul into 
the task of military organization, and the adminis- 
trative capacity which he displayed secured his hold 
on the king's favor. He provided for victualling 
the fleet, raised the necessary number of ships, 
selected their captains, and even apportioned the 
gunners, l^^othing was too trivial for his attention, 
even down to beer-barrels and biscuits. It is not 
surprising that his colleague, Bishop Fox, wrote to 
him, ' ' I pray God send us with speed, and soon 
deliver you of your outrageous charge and labor. ' ' 

The fleet put to sea in March 1513, under the 
command of the Lord Admiral Sir Edward Howard. * 
The French fleet was far superior in numbers, and 
prepared to prevent the English from landing on 

* Sir Edward Howard (1477 ?-1513) began his naval service 
at the age of fifteen and rose to the position of Lord High 
Admiral. " His death was felt as a national disaster," writes 
one. James IV. of Scotland wrote to the king of England : 
— ' ' Surely, dearest brother, we think more loss is to you of 
your late admiral, who deceased to his great honor and laud, 
than the advantage might have been of the winning of all the 
French galleys and their equipage." 



THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 43 

the French coast. Sir Edward Howard was burning 
with desire for a decisive engagement, and on 25th 
April attacked the French galleys as they lay in 
shallow water. He boarded them with his boats, and 
himself leapt on to the ship of the French admiral, 
but before his men could follow him their cable was 
cut away, and he was left almost alone. Seeing 
that there was no hope of support, he took his whis- 
tle from his neck and cast it into the sea ; then with 
his gilt target on his arm he fought till the enemy's 
pikes thrust him overboard and he was drowned. 
The English attack was driven back ; but its gal- 
lantry and the bravery of Sir Edward Howard pro- 
duced a great impression. It was clear that after 
all the Englishmen had not forgotten how to fight. 

The efforts of the English fleet were successful in 
securing the peaceful landing of the arm}^ at Calais, 
where Henry arrived at the end of June. "With 
him went Wolsey, commanding two hundred men, 
and now a necessary personage in the king's train. 
Such confidence was placed in him by Queen Kath- 
arine that she requested him to write to her fre- 
quently and inform her of the king's health, while in 
return she poured her household troubles into his 
sympathetic ear. ISTo doubt Wolsey 's hands were 
full of business of many kinds during this brief and 



44 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

glorious campaign, glorious in the sense that suc- 
cess attended its operations, but fruitless because 
the things done were scarcely worth the doing. 
The English army took Terouenne, more owing to 
the feebleness of the French than to their own 
valor. Louis XII. was prematurely old and ailing ; 
things had gone against him in Italy, and there was 
little spirit in the French army. 

The defeat of the French outside Terouenne was 
so rapid that the battle was derisively called the 
Battle of Spurs. Henry's desire for martial glory 
was satisfied by the surrender of Terouenne, and his 
vanity was gratified by the presence of Maximilian, 
who in return for a large subsidy brought a few 
German soldiers, and professed to serve under the 
English king. From Terouenne he advanced to 
Tournai, which surrendered at the end of Septem- 
ber. Maxunilian was delighted at these conquests, 
of which he reaped all the benefits ; with Tournai 
in the hands of England, Flanders had a strong pro- 
tection against France. So Maximilian would 
gladly have led Henry to continue the campaign in 
the interests of the Flemish frontier. But Henry 
had no taste for spending a winter in the field ; he 
pleaded that his presence was needed in England, 
and departed, promising to return next year. 



THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 45 

In truth the arms of England had won a greater 
victory on English ground than anything they had 
achieved abroad. The war against France awak- 
ened the old hostility of Scotland, and no sooner 
was Henry YIII. encamped before Terouenne than 
he received a Scottish herald bringing a message of 
defiance. "I do not believe that my brother of 
Scotland will break his oath," said Henry, ''but if 
he does, he will live to repent it." Eepentance 
came rapidly on the Field of Flodden,^ where the 

*"The Earl of Surrey . . . setup the standard of St. 
George at Newcastle ; and with a numerous force- marched 
on to Alnwick, which he reached on the 3d of September. 
According to the practice of chivalry Surrey offered battle 
to James, on the following Friday, in a message which he 
sent by a pursuivant-at-arms. The king of Scotland cour- 
teously accepted the challenge. To an insolent defiance from 
Lord Thomas Howard, that lie had come to justify the death 
of Andrew Barton, and would neither give nor receive 
quarter, the king returned no answer. ' The king lay upon 
the side of a high mountain called Flodden, on the edge of 
Cheviot, where was but one narrow field for any man to 
ascend up the said hill to him, and at the foot of the hill lay 
all his ordnance. On the one side of his army was a great 
marish, and compassed with the hills of Cheviot, so that he lay 
too strong to be approached of any side, except that the Eng- 
lish would have temerariously run on his ordnance.' James 
was rash ; but he kept his strong position, in spite of a taunt- 
ing message from Surrey to take up a ground wliere the 
battle might be fairly tried. The English commander was an 
experienced soldier ; and he showed his knowledge of 
strategy by an unexpected and masterly movement. The 
Till, a branch of the Tweed, lay between the two armies. 



4:6 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. / 

Scottish army was almost cut to pieces. This bril- 
liant victory was greatly due to the energy of Queen 
Katharine, who wrote to Wolsey, ''My heart is 

Surrey had crossed the river on the 8th of September, at a 
distant point from Flodden by which manoeuvre he deceived 
James as to his real intentions ; but on the morning of the 
9th vsrith his van and cannon, he suddenly re-crossed it at 
Twissel-bridge, near the junction of the Till w^ith the Tv^^eed, 
and the remainder of the army passed a ford. Surrey was 
now in a position in which he could cut off the communica- 
tion of James with his supplies from Scotland. The English 
were marching rapidly to secure the eminence of Branksome, 
when the Scots descended the heights of Flodden to seize this 
position, setting fire to their tents. The king, who had made 
no attempt to prevent the English crossing the Till, had now 
" his enemies before him on a plain field," as his wish is 
declared to have been. The battle began at four o'clock in 
the afternoon of the 9th of September. 

'* The English line stretched east and west, 
And southward were their faces set ; 

The Scottish northward proudly prest, 
And manfully their foes they met." 

Each of the sons of Surrey commanded a division of the 
right wing ; Surrey himself was in the centre ; Sir Edward 
Stanley headed the left wing. The Scottish earls Huntley 
and Home, who commanded their left wing, attacked the 
Howards with a vigor that might have decided the battle, 
had not Lord Dacre come to their aid with the reserve of 
horse. The Scottish right wing, which consisted chiefly of 
Highlanders, was unable to stand up against the archers of 
Lancashire. James and Surrey met in close conflict in the 
the centres of their armies. Never was king, in the extremity 
of danger, surrounded by more gallant supporters. But 
though he and his knights were struggling in no unequal 
strife with Surrey, whose standard was nearly won, the rapid 



THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 47 

very good to it, and I am horribly busy with mak- 
ing standards, banners, and badges." She ad- 
dressed the English leaders before they started for 
the war, bade them remember that the English 
courage excelled that of other nations, and that the 
Lord smiled on those who stood in defence of their 
own. "With a proud heart she sent her husband the 
blood-stained plaid of the Scottish king, taken from 
his corpse. ''In this," she wrote, ''your Grace 
shall see how I keep my promise, sending you for 
your banner a king's coat." 

The victory of Elodden Field was of great im- 
portance, for it delivered England from the fear of 
a troublesome neighbor, and showed Europe that 
England could not be muzzled by the need of care 

triumph of Stanley over the right wing enabled him to at- 
tack the Scottish centre in the rear. James fell within a 
lance's length of Surrey. None of his division were made 
prisoners. They all perished with their king. As night 
came on Surrey drew back his men. Before the dawn the 
Scots had left the field. The loss of the Scottish army has 
been computed at ten thousand men ; that of the English at 
about seven thousand. ' Scarce a family of eminence but has 
an ancestor killed at Flodden,' says Scott. In the words of 
the ballad, — 

*The flowers of the forest were a' wede away.' " 

Knight, History of England. 
The English forces engaged in this battle numbered about 
32,000 ; the Scottish forces were about 30,000. 



48 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

for her own borders. The Scottish power was 
broken for many years to come, and England was 
free to act as she would. Europe began to respect 
the power of England, though there was little 
reason to rate highly the wisdom of her king. 
Henry had won little by his campaign; he had 
gratified his vanity, but he had not advanced to- 
wards any definite end. 

Henry YIII. was young and simple. He ex- 
pected to captivate the world by brilliant deeds, and 
fascinate it by unselfish exploits. He soon found 
that his pretended allies were only seeking their own 
advantage. The name of the ' ' Holy League ' ' was 
the merest pretext. The new Pope, Leo X. , * a sup- 
ple time-serving intriguer, trained in the deceitful 

*Pope Leo X. was Giovanni de' Medici (1475-1521), son of 
Lorenzo de' Medici (Lorenzo the Magnificent) of Florence. 
He ascended the papal chair in 1513 upon the death of Julius 
n. He continued the policy of his predecessor in patronizing 
literature and the fine arts, but his patronage was on a scale 
of unparalleled munificence. Raphael, Michaelangelo, and the 
galaxy of artists by which they were surrounded, were en- 
couraged to prosecute the work they had alreadj'^ begun under 
the patronage of Julius II. The university of Rome was re- 
stored with its one hundred salaried professors, and a Greek 
college was founded in the same city. His luxury and munifi- 
cence demanded a larger revenue than the Church provided, 
and to meet this demand he sold indulgences in great numbers 
all over Europe. This indiscriminate sale of indulgences 
shocked the moral consciousness of large numbers of people, 
and was the direct cause that led to the Reformation. 



THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 49 

policy of the Medici House, was willing to patch up 
the quarrel between France and the Papacy. Fer- 
dinand of Spain wished only to keep things as they 
were. As he grew older he grew more suspicious, 
and clung to the power which he possessed. His 
one dread was lest Charles, the grandson of himself 
and Maximilian, should demand his maternal heri- 
tage of Castile. Ferdinand was resolved to keep the 
two Spanish kingdoms united under his own rule un- 
til his death, and considered European affairs in the 
first instance as they were likely to aif ect that issue. 
He was of opinion that France was no longer formi- 
dable to Spanish interests in Italy, while English 
successes on the Flemish frontier might make Charles 
more powerful than he wished him to be. Accord- 
ingly he set to work to undermine Henry's position 
by making an alliance with France. He was still 
Henry's ally and had promised him to help him to 
continue the war in the spring of 1514. E^one the 
less he entered into secret negotiations with France, 
and cautiously endeavored to persuade Maximilian to 
join him. Maximilian was still at war with Venice, 
and was aggrieved that he was the only member of the 
plundering gang who had not gained by the League of 
Cambrai. Ferdinand allured him from his interest 
in Flanders by the prospect of a renewal of the Leaguo 
4 



^0 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

against Yenice in his special behalf, and Maximilian 
was sanguine enough to listen to the temptation. He 
faintly stipulated that the consent, of England should 
be obtained, but was satisfied with Ferdinand's as- 
surance that Henr}^ would have no objection to a 
truce with France. Early in April 1514 a truce for 
a year was made between Louis XII., Maximilian, 
and Ferdinand. Henry found himself tricked by 
his father-in-law, and abandoned by the ally whom he 
had largely subsidized, and had greatly benefited. 

It is no wonder that Henry was greatly angered at 
this result, and declared that he would trust no man 
any more. He had taken the measure of the good 
faith of European rulers, and had learned the futility 
of great undertakings for the general welfare. In 
truth, the difficulty of European politics always lies 
in the fact that the general welfare can only be pro- 
moted by the furtherance of particular interests, 
which threaten in their turn to become dangerous. 
The interests of the sixteenth century were purely 
dynastic interests, and seem trivial and unworthy. 
"We are not, however, justified in inferring that dy- 
nastic interests, because they are concerned with 
small arrangements, are in their nature more selfish 
or more iniquitous than interests which clothe them- 
selves in more fair-sounding phrases. Their selfish- 



THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. SI 

ness is more apparent ; it does not follow that it is 
less profound. 

However that may be, the desertion of Maximilian 
and Ferdinand put a stop to Henry's warlike pro- 
jects, and restored England to peace. Henry had 
had enough of lighting other people's battles. He 
was willing to pursue his oivn course by the means 
which others used, and trust henceforth to the blood- 
less battles of diplomacy. In this new field Wolsey 
was the English champion, and for the next sixteen 
years the history of England is the history of Wol- 
sey's achievements. 

Wolsey's services in the campaign of 1513 gave 
him a firm hold of the king's favor, and secured 
for him large rewards. As he was an ecclesiastic 
his salary was paid out of the revenues of the 
Church. When Tournai became an English posses- 
sion its bishopric was conferred on Wolsey and on a 
vacancy in the bishopric of Lincoln in the beginning 
of 1514 that see was given him in addition. How 
the ofiicers of the Church were in those days used 
as rewards for service to the State may be seen 
by the fact that the English representative in Kome 
was the Archbishop of York, Thomas Bainbridge, 
who lived as Cardinal in the Papal Court. More- 
over, an Italian, Silvestro de' Gigli, held the bish- 



5^ LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

opric of "Worcester, though he lived habitually in 
Rome, and devoted his energies to the furtherance 
of the interests of England. In July 1614 Cardinal 
Bainbridge died in Rome, poisoned by one of his 
servants. The Bishop of Worcester was suspected 
of being privy to the deed for the purpose of re- 
moving out of the way a troublesome rival. It 
would seem, however, that the murder was prompted 
by vengeful feelings and the desire to hide pecula- 
tions. The Pope investigated the charge against the 
Bishop of Worcester, and he was acquitted; but 
the story gives a poor picture of morality and secu- 
rity of life at Rome. On the death of Bainbridge 
the vacant archbishopric of York was also con- 
ferred on Wolsey, who was now enriched by the 
revenues of three sees, and was clearly marked out 
as the foremost man in England. 

He rose to this position solely by the king's 
favor, as the king alone chose his own ministers and 
counsellors, and there existed no external pressure 
which could influence his decisions. The Wars of 
the Roses had seen the downfall of the baronial 
power, and Henry YII. had accustomed men to 
see affairs managed almost entirely by a new class 
of officials. The ministers and counsellors of Henry 
YIII. were chosen from a desire to balance the 



THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 53 

old and the new system. The remnants of the 
baronial party were associated with officials, that 
thev mio^ht be assimilated into the same class. The 
Duke of Norfolk, as the greatest nobleman in Eng- 
land, was powerful, and was jealous of the men 
with whom he found himself called upon to work. 
Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, was the per- 
sonal friend of the king, and shared in his private 
more than in his public life. The Earl of Surrey 
had done good service at Flodden Field, and was a 
man of practical capacity. The other ministers 
were most of them ecclesiastics. Warham, Arch- 
bishop of Canterbury, was respected rather than 
trusted. Fox, Bishop of Winchester, was a capa- 
ble and painstaking official. Ruthal,* Bishop of 
Durham, was destitute of real insight, and was 
content to follow Wolsey's lead. Wolsey won his 

* Thomas Ruthall, or Rowthall, bishop of Durham, was 
educated at Oxford but received his degree of D.D. at Cam- 
bridge. He was a trusted servant of Henry VII., from whom 
he received a large number of ecclesiastical preferments. 
When Buckingham was examined by Henry VIII., in 1521, 
Ruthall was present as secretary. A story is told of him, that, 
being asked to make up an account of the kingdom, he did 
so ; but accidentally he gave in to the king another account 
treating of his own property, which was very large. His 
chagrin over this blunder brought on an illness. The bishop 
was interested in architecture and education, and he furthered 
by personal effort both causes. From Dictionary of National 
Biography, 



54 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

way by his political genius, his quickness, and his 
vast power of detailed work. He owed his posi- 
tion entirely to the king, and was responsible to 
him alone. The king consulted his Council only 
about such matters as he thought fit ; foreign affairs 
were managed almost entirely according to his own 
will and pleasure. 

The English have never been famous for diplomacy, 
and "Wolsey was ill supplied with agents for his work. 
The English residents at foreign Courts were not 
men of mark or position. John Stile at the Court 
of Ferdinand, and Thomas Spinelly in Flanders 
seem to have been merchants carrying on their own 
business. With Maximilian was a more important 
man. Sir Kichard Wingfieldj^a Suffolk knight, who 
was too self-satisfied and too dull-witted to under- 
stand Wolsey's schemes. For special work special 
agents had to be sent, who went unwillingly to a 
thankless and laborious task. They were ill paid 

* Sir Richard Wingfield (1469 ?— 1525) was a soldier, states- 
man, and scholar of eminence in his day. He served his 
country aS ambassador on many occasions. In 1524 he was 
appointed high steward of the university of Cambridge. Sir 
Thomas More had received from the university the promise of 
this position, but at the request of the king he withdrew in 
favor of Wingfield. In 1525 Wingfield was sent by Henry 
VIII., on an important mission to Spain, and he died in the 
city of Toledo July 32 of that year. 



THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 55 

and ill supported ; but even here Wolsey knew how 
to choose the right men, and he managed to inspire 
them with his own zeal and tenacity of purpose. It 
is a striking proof of Wolsey 's genius that he knew 
whom he could trust, and that his trust was never 
misplaced. 

When Henry YIII. was smarting under his rebuff 
from Maximilian and Ferdinand, he concerted with 
Wolsey how he might avenge himself, and Wolsey 
devised his scheme in entire secrecy. Ferdinand 
and Maximilian had left England in the lurch by 
making a truce with France. Wolsey resolved to 
outdo them in their own lines. They had elected 
to maintain the existing condition of affairs by 
checking England's aspirations and lending a cold 
support to France. Wolsey resolved to turn France 
into a firm ally, that so England and France united 
mio:ht form a new combination, before which the 
schemes of Ferdinand would be powerless. 

Wolsey luckily had the means of approaching 
Louis XII. without attracting attention. Amongst 
the prisoners taken in the Battle of the Spurs * was 

* There were two battles that are known as Battles of the 
Spurs. The one here referred to was tlie second and less im- 
portant one. It was fought near Guinegate in 1513, and the 
result was an easy victorj'- of the English over the French. 
It is said to have taken its name from the precipitate flight of 



56 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

the young Duke of Longueville, a favorite of the 
French king. He had been sent to London, to the 
sore disturbance of Queen Katharine, who, being a 
sensible woman, thought that the best thing to do 
with a prisoner was to confine him in the Tower. 
On Henry's return the Duke of Longueville was 
released, and amused himself at Court like any one 
else. Through him Wolsey opened up secret com- 
munications with Louis XIL, whose domestic cir- 
cumstances luckily gave a handle for Wolsey's de- 
signs. In January, 1514, the French queen died; 
and although the widowed husband had reached the 
age of fifty -two, it was known that he was looking 
out for a young bride. 

It has always been one of the most revolting 
features of dynastic politics that the private relation- 
ships of members of ruling families have been 
entirely determined b}^ considerations of dynastic 
expediency. In the sixteenth century this was emi- 
nently the case. Alliances were family arrange- 
ments, and corresponded to motives of family ag- 
grandizement rather than to national interests. 
They were sealed by marriages, they were broken 
by divorces. So great were the responsibilities of 

the Frencli : that is, their chief weapon of defence was their 
spurs, or the fleetness of their horses. 



THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 57 

royalty that the private life of members of royal 
houses was entirely sunk in their official position. 
They were mere counters to be moved about the 
board at will, and disposed of according to the needs 
of family politics. Such a victim of circumstances 
was Henry YIII.'s younger sister, the Princess 
Mary, a bright and intelligent girl of seventeen. 
She was betrothed to Charles, Prince of Castile, and 
it had been arranged that the marriage should take 
place when he reached the age of fourteen. The 
time was come for the fulfilment of the promise ; 
but Ferdinand did not wish to see his troublesome 
grandson more closely united to England, which had 
shown such ambitious inclinations. Maximilian, the 
guardian of Charles, wavered between his desire to 
please Henry and Ferdinand, and invented one ex- 
cuse after another for not proceeding with his grand- 
son' s marriage. 

Wolsey allowed Maximilian to go on with his 
shifty talk, and was only too glad to see him fall 
into the trap. His negotiations with France were 
progressing, and the outward sign of the new alli- 
ance was to be the marriage of Mary to Louis XII. 
So secretly were the arrangements made that Europe 
was taken by surprise when, at the end of July, it 
was gradually known that the alliance between 



58 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

France and England was an accomplished fact. 
The marriage contract was soon signed, and in Oc- 
tober Mary went to Abbeville,^ where she was met 
by her elderly husband. 

The result of this clever diplomacy was to secure 
England the respect and envy of Europe. It was 
clear that henceforth England was a power which 
had to be reckoned with. Ferdinand was taught 
that he could no longer count on using his dutiful 
son-in-law as he thought most convenient to him- 
self. Maximilian sadly reflected that if he needed 
English gold in the future he must show a little 
more dexterity in his game of playing fast and loose 
with everybody. Pope Leo X. was not over- 
pleased at seeing England develop a policy of her 

* Mary of France (1496-1533) was the daughter of Henry 
Vn,, and Elizabeth of York, and sister of Henry VIH. 
She consented to wed the elderly and infirm Louis XII. of 
France, upon the promise that if she survived him she should 
have her own choice the next time. The period of her 
married life was less than three months : her wedding oc- 
curred October 9, 1514, and Louis died on January 1, 1515. 
She afterwards married Charles Brandon, duke of Suffolk, 
and by this marriage she was the mother of Frances, who was 
the mother of the ill-fated Lady Jane Grey. 

The town of A.bbeville, at which the marriage of Louis XII. 
and Mary was celebrated, is situated near the coast of the 
English Channel, about half way between Boulogne and 
Dieppe. It was one of the gathering places of the crusades. 
The gorgeous church of St. Walfram was then in process of 
erection, having been begun in 1488 by Louis XII. 



THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 59 

own, and looked coldly on Wolsey. After the 
death of Cardinal Bainbridge Henry wrote to the 
Pope and begged him to make Wolsey cardinal in 
his room. ' ' Such are his merits, ' ' said the king, 
''that I esteem him above my dearest friends, and 
can do nothing of importance without him. ' ' Leo 
X. coldly replied that there were great difficulties 
in the way of creating a cardinal : the title, he re- 
minded the king, was much sought after, and ad- 
mitted its bearer to the highest rank : he must wait 
a more suitable time. It would seem that the Pope 
wished to have further guarantees of England's 
good- will, and hinted that Wolsey must give 
pledges of his good behavior. 

England did not long enjoy the diplomatic vic- 
tory which Wolsey had won by his brilliant scheme 
of a French alliance. Henry still had a longing for 
military glory, with which Wolsey had little sym- 
pathy. He wished to revenge himself on his per- 
fidious father-in-law, and proposed to Louis XII. an 
attack upon Navarre, and even thought of claiming 
a portion of the kingdom of Castile, as rightfully 
belonging to Queen Katharine. Whatever projects 
Henry may have had came to an end on the death 
of Louis on the 1st of January 1515. The elderly 
bridegroom, it was said, tried too well to humor 



60 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

the social disposition of his sprightly bride. He 
changed his manner of life, and kept late hours, till 
his health entirely gave way, and he sank under 
his well-meant efforts to renew the gallantry of 
youth. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE UNIVEESAL PEACE. 
1515-1518. 

The death of Louis XII. was a severe blow to 
Wolsey, The French alliance was not popular in 
England, and was bitterly opposed by the Duke of 
Norfolk and the party of the old nobility, who saw 
with dislike the growing influence of Wolsey. 
They now had an opportunity of reversing his policy 
and securing his downfall. It required all Wolsey' s 
sagacity to devise a means of solving the difficulties 
which the death of Louis created. The new kins: 
of France, Francis I.,^ was aged twenty-one, and 



* Francis I. (1494-1547) succeeded Louis XII., who was his 
uncle and his father-in-law, as king of France January 1, 
1515. His reign v\'as marked by wars in Italy w^hich, in 
spite of some brilliant successes, left his power on the 
whole weaker at the end than when be began. " Super- 
ficially a man of brilliant parts, Francis had in reality at bot- 
tom a frivolous, changeable, licentious nature. Nevertheless 
he greatly fostered learning and art, inviting painters and 
scholars to his kingdom, founding libraries, opening schools, 
and building several of the finest palaces in France ; but his 

61 



'% 



62 tIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

was as ambitious of distinction as was Henry. The 
treaty between France and England had not yet 
been carried out, and it would require much dexter- 
ity to modify its provisions. The kings of the six- 
teenth century were keen men of business, and 
never let money slip through their hands. The 
widowed Queen of France must, of course, return 
to England, but there were all sorts of questions 
about her dowry and the jewels which Louis had 
given her. Henry claimed that she should bring 
back with her everything to which any title could 
be urged : Francis I. Avished to give up as little as 
possible. The two monarchs haggled like two 
hucksters, and neither of them had any care of the 
happiness or reputation of the 3^oung girl round 
whom they bickered. In the background stood 
"Wolsey's enemies, who saw that if they could create 
a rupture between France and England Wolsey's 
influence Avould be at an end. 

In these dangerous conditions Wolsey had to seek 
an ally in Charles Brandon,* Duke of Suffolk, and 

persecution of the Vaudois [or Waldenses] and other Protes- 
tant sects has left a dark stain on his memory which all his 
patronage of artists and men of letters will not efface." 

* Charles Brandon, the date of whose birth is not even ap- 
proximately known, was the bearer of the standard of Henry 
VH. on the field of Bosworth in 1485. He was a great favorite 



THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 63 

had to trust to his private knowledge of the char- 
acter of Queen Mary. She had the strong will of 
the Tudors, and had also their craving for admira- 
tion. These two qualities seem to have drawn her 
in opposite directions. While her marriage with 
Prince Charles was talked of she professed the great- 
est admiration for him, and gazed with rapture on 
a very bad portrait of her intended husband. But 
this did not prevent her from being attracted by 
the personal fascinations of the Duke of Suffolk, as 
Wolsey knew. When he negotiated the French 
alliance he had some difficulty in overcoming Mary's 
repugnance to an old husband ; but she viewed the 
proposal in a business-like way, and was not indif- 
ferent to the position of Queen of France. She 
looked forward to a speedy widowhood, and ex- 
tracted from Henry a promise that, if she under- 
took to marry for the first time to please him, she 
might choose her second husband to please herself. 
When Mary was free the hopes of the Duke of Suf- 
folk revived, and Wolsey knowing this, chose him 

of Henry VIII. who created him Duke of Suffolk in 1514. He 
was employed on many diplomatic missions, and commanded 
the armies that invaded France in the years 1523 and 1544. 
He died at Guildford, England, in 1545, and although he ex- 
pressed in his will the desire to be buried at Tattershall, 
Lincolnshire, the king did him the honor of causing him to 
be buried at Windsor at his own charge. 



64: UFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

as the best instrument for clearing away the diffi- 
culties raised by Francis I. , and bringing back Mary 
honorably to England. 

Francis, on his side, used his knowledge of the 
current rumor to extract from Mary her confidences 
about Suffolk, and with this knowledge approached 
Suffolk as a friend. By alternately encouraging 
Suffolk and terrifying Mary he turned Wolsey's 
ambassador into an anxious lover. Still Wolsey 
trusted that Suffolk would the more bestir himself 
to bring Mary back, and would make such terms 
with Francis as would commend his suit to Henry. 
But Wolsey's enemies led Heury to make exorbi- 
tant demands, which Francis met by redoubling his 
persecution of Mary. At last she asked Suffolk to 
marry her, which he did in secret. After this 
Francis was free from any further need of concilia- 
ting Henry, who must take back his sister on any 
terms, and Wolsey was left to appease Henry as 
best he could. In April Mary and Suffolk returned 
to England, and in May the luckless pair were pub- 
licly married. Wolsey manfully befriended Suffolk 
in this matter, but the calculations of his diplomacy 
were hopelessly upset by private feelings and the 
rashness of passion. 

However, Mary received part of her dowry and 



THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 65 

some of her jewels. Francis I. had no wish to 
quarrel with England, but only to make the best 
terms for himself. He was bent upon gathering 
laurels in Italy, and on 5th April renewed the alli- 
ance between France and England. This time, 
however, the treaty was little more than a truce, 
and many questions were left untouched ; no men- 
tion was made of the return of Tournai, and the 
question of Mary's jewels was left undecided. 
Francis I. counted on keeping England quiet by an 
alliance which he formed at the same time with 
Ferdinand, while he w^on over the Flemish counsel- 
lors of Prince Charles, who betrothed himself to the 
infant daughter of Louis XII. , Kenee, a child of four. 
Thus he had cleared the way for an expedition to 
Italy, where he longed to claim for France the 
Duchy of Milan, that had been won and lost b}^ 
Louis XII. In July he set out contentedly, know- 
ing that Henry was powerless to interfere. He 
treated England with neglect, and gave Henry no 
information of his movements. England looked on 
with growing jealousy while Francis crossed the 
Alps and in September defeated the Swiss merce- 
naries who held Milan in the name of the last Sf orza 
Duke. The battle of Marignano ^ (14tli Septem- 

* Marignano, now called Melegnano, is situated nine miles 

5 



QQ LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

ber) was a splendid success for Francis, who there 
beat back the Swiss infantry, hitherto considered 
invincible in Europe. The star of France had risen, 

south-east of Milan, Italy. It was about noon of the 13th of 
September that the Swiss, issuing from Milan, came upon the 
French army. " The king, who was purposing to sit down to 
supper, left it on the spot and went straight towards the 
enemy who were already engaged in skirmishing, which 
lasted a long while before they were at the great game. The 
king had great numbers of lanzknechts, the which would 
fain have done a bold deed in crossing a ditch to go after the 
Swiss ; but these latter let seven or eight ranks cross and 
then thrust yon them back in such sort that all that had 
crossed got hurled into the ditch. The said lanzknechts were 
mighty frightened ; and, but for the aid of a troop of men-at- 
arms, amongst the which was the good knight Bayard who 
bore right down through the Swiss, there had been a sad 
disaster there, for it was now night, and night knows no 
shame. A band of Swiss came passing in front of the king, 
who charged them gallantly. There was heavy fighting 
there and much danger to the king's person, for his great 
buffalo [that is, the top of the vizor of his helmet, so called 
because it was made of the leather of buffalo hide] was 
pierced so as to let in daylight, by the thrust of a pike. 

" It was now so late that they could not see one another ; 
and the Swiss were, for the evening, forced to retire on the 
one side and the French on the other. They lodged as they 
could ; but well I trow that none did rest at ease. The king 
of France put as good a face on matters as the least of all 
his soldiers did, for he remained all night a-horseback like 
the rest. According to some accounts, however, he had a 
little sleep, lying on a gun carriage. On the morrow at day- 
break the Swiss were for beginning again, and they came 
straight towards the French artillery, from which they had 
a good peppering. Howbeit, never did men fight better, and 
the affair lasted three or four good hours. At last they were 
broken and beaten, and there were left on the field ten or 



THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 67 

and Francis could look round with proud superi- 
ority. 

The princes of Europe were alarmed beyond 
measure at the completeness of the French success. 
They had looked with equanimity at the prepara- 
tions of Francis, because they expected that he 
would be delayed, or, if he attacked the Swiss, 
would be defeated. But his rapid march soon con- 
vinced men that he was in earnest, and especially 
excited the fear of Pope Leo X., whose ingenious 
policy of being secretly allied with everybody was 
disturbed by this display of unexpected vigor. The 
alarm of the Pope was useful to "VYolsey. It 
awakened him to the need of making the English 
king his friend, and fulfilling his 'desire to have 
Wolsey created cardinal. Wolsey had not ceased, 
through his agent, the Bishop of "Worcester, to 
urge this point upon the Pope, and when Francis 
was well advanced on his road to Milan the plead- 
ings of Wolsey were irresistible. '' If the King of 
England forsake the Pope," wrote "Wolsey to the 
Bishop of Worcester, ' ' he will be in greater dan- 
ger on this day two years than ever was Pope 

twelve thousand of them. The remainder withdrew in pretty 
good order along a high-road to Milan, whitlier they were 
hotly pursued." [Histoire du bon Chevalier sans Peur et sans 
Reprochet ii., p. 99 ff.J 



68 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

Julius." Leo X. had no wish to run the risks 
which the impetuous Julius II. faced with unbroken 
spirit. He prepared to keep himself supplied with 
allies to protect him against all emergencies, and on 
10th September (1515) nominated Wolsey cardinal 
sole, a special mark of favor, as cardinals were gen- 
erally created in batches at intervals. 

Wolsey' s creation was not popular in the Roman 
Court. Cardinal Bainbridge had been overbearing 
in manner and hasty in temper, and the English 
were disliked for their outspokenness. England 
was regarded as a political upstart, and Wolsey was 
considered to be a fitting emblem of the country 
which he represented. Moreover, the attitude of 
England in ecclesiastical matters was not marked by 
that subservience which the Papacy wished to ex- 
act, and many doubted the expediency of exalting 
in ecclesiastical authority an English prelate of such 
far-reaching views as Wolsey was known to hold. 
An official of the Roman Court gives the following 
account of the current opinion : — 

'' Men say that an English Cardinal ought not to 
be created lightly, because the English behave 
themselves insolently in that dignity, as was shown 
in the case of Cardinal Bainbridge just dead. 
Moreover, as Wolsey is the intimate friend of the 



THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 69 

king, he will not be contented with the Cardinalate 
alone, but, as is the custom of these barbarians, will 
wish to have the office of legate over all England. 
If this be granted the influence of the Eoman Court 
will be at an end ; if it be not granted the Cardinal 
will be the Pope's enemy and will favor France. 
But despite all this the Pope, in whose hands alone 
the matter was, created him Cardinal on the seventh 
of September. ' ' 

This elevation of AYolsey was due to the strong 
expression of desire on the part of Henry, who fur- 
ther asked that legatine powers should be given to 
the new cardinal. This Leo refused for the present ; 
he had done enough to induce Henry to enter into a 
secret league for the protection of the Church, 
which meant a convenient pretext for attacking 
Francis if he became too powerful in Italy. When 
this was arranged the red hat was sent to England, 
and its reception gave Wolsey an opportunity of dis- 
playing his love for magnificent ceremonial.* On 

* " The ostentation of Wolsey, as far as we may infer from 
the character of his display, was the result rather of policy 
than of temperament. He filled the two highest offices in 
the country, secular and ecclesiastical. He had been raised 
from the ranks of the people to be chancellor and cardinal. 
He was surrounded by a proud nobility, with whom he was 
'the butcher's cur.' He exhibited the pomp of his high 
stations to demand the respect which would have been with- 



^0 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

17th E'ovember it was placed on his head by Arch- 
bishop Warham in Westminster Abbey. 

Ceremonial, however splendid, was but an episode 

held from his talents and learning, under a cloud of the 
meanness of his birth. It was an age of display, when the 
king set the example to his court of the most extravagant 
splendor, which many of the nobles ruined themselves to 
imitate. The simplicity of private life, of which More, as 
chancellor, afterwards furnished so admirable a pattern, was 
scarcely compatible with Wolsey's great position as an 
ecclesiastic. He was the representative of the pomp and 
luxury of Leo X. ; and he had the same exalted ideas as the 
Pope evinced of bestowing a magnificent patronage upon 
learning and the arts. 'Thus passed the Cardinal,' says 
Cavendish, ' his life from day to day, and year to year, in. 
such great wealth, joy, and triumph, and glory, having 
always upon his side the king's especial favor.' But it was 
not that alone which upheld Wolsey. His position as the 
greatest of English ecclesiastics commanded the reverence 
that might have been denied to his civil abilities ; his just 
administration in his court of equity ; and the extraordinary 
influence over a despotic king, by which, for so long a period, 
he preserved him, with one or tw^o exceptions, from any 
sanguinary course of jealousy or revenge, or any blood-guilty 
violation of the rights of the people. Wolsey's real worth 
was duly estimated by More, a very competent judge, who 
said of liis administration of the powers of the great 
seal, — ' he behaves most beautifully.' Still, the sumptuous 
churchman commanded a respect whicli the wise chancellor 
might scarcely have propitiated. In his hour of misfortune 
the Duke of Norfolk said to him, ' I regarded your honor, for 
that ye were archbishop of York, and a cardinal, whose 
estate of honor surmounted any duke now living within this 
realm.' It was this reverence to his spiritual dignity wliich 
made him capricious and overbearing in his civil relations." 

Knight, History of England, ii. 278. 
" The king loaded him with new proofs of his favor. The 



THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. Yl 

in Wolsey's diplomatic business. The news of the 
French victory at Marignano was so unpleasant that 
Henry YIII. for some time refused to believe it to 
be true. When at last it was impossible to doubt 
any longer, the necessity became urgent to put a 
spoke in the wheel of Francis I. England was not 
prepared to go to war with France without allies, 
and Wolsey developed his cleverness in attaining his 
ends by secret means. Nothing could be done by 
uniting with the cautious Ferdinand ; but the flighty 
Maximilian was a more hopeful subject. The only 
troops that could be used against France- were the 
German and Swiss mercenaries, men who made war 
a trade, and were trained and disciplined soldiers. 
The first means of injuring France was to prevent 
her from hiring Swiss soldiers, and the second was 

revenues of two sees whose tenants were foreigners fell into 
his hands ; he held the bishopric of Winchester and the 
abbacy of St. Albans. He spent this vast wealth with 
princely ostentation. His pomp was almost royal. A train 
of prelates and nobles followed him as he moved ; his house- 
hold was composed of five hundred persons of noble birth, 
and its chief posts were occupied by knights and barons of 
the realm. Two of the houses he built, Hampton Court and 
York House, the later Whitehall, were splendid enough to 
serve at his fall as royal palaces. [The same might be said of 
his palace in Rome.] Nor was this magnificence a mere 
show of power. The whole direction of home and foreign 
affairs rested with Wolsey alone." 

J. R. Green, History of the English People, ii. 111. 



72 LIFE OF THOMAS WOI.SEY. 

to induce Maximilian to undertake an Italian ex- 
pedition in his own interests. As regards the 
Swiss, it was merely a matter of money, for they 
were ready to sell themselves to the highest bidder. 
In like manner it was easy to subsidize Maximilian, 
but it was difficult to hold him to his promise and 
be sure that he would spend the money on the right 
purpose. "Wolsey, however, resolved to try and 
use Maximilian ; he offered him the aid of a large 
contingent of the Swiss if he would attack Milan. 
Knowing the delicacy of the enterprise and the 
slipperiness of Maximilian, Wolsey entrusted this 
matter to a man whose pertinacity had been al- 
ready tried, — Eichard Pace,^ secretary of Cardinal 

1 Richard Pace (1482 ?-1536) was intimately connected with 
many of the political and diplomatic movements of his day. 
In the year 1509 he accompanied Cardinal Bainbridge to 
Rome, where the latter perished by assassination. In 1515 
he was sent to France " on a difficult and somewhat dangerous 
mission. Henry had become jealous of the growing power of 
France. Her prestige had been greatly increased by her 
victory over the Swiss at the battle of Marignano. The Swiss, 
sore at their repulse, might possibly be induced to attack 
afresh the forces of Francis I. on their side of the Alps. Pace 
was entrusted with a limited amount of English gold and 
unlimited promises . . . Pace's extant letters graphically 
describe the incidents of his mission : the insatiable greed of 
the Swiss, the indiscretion of Sir Robert Wingfield, the 
caprices and embarrassments of Maximilian, which combined 
to render abortive the scheme of wresting Milan from the 
French. His negotiations with the Swiss led more than once 



THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. Y3 

Bainbridge, who had stubbornly insisted on an in- 
vestigation of the circumstances of his master's 
death, and had annoyed the Koman Court by his 
watchful care of his master's effects. Pace was 
sent to hire soldiers amongst the Swiss, and Wol- 



to his imprisonment . . . His tact and untiring energy- 
were duly appreciated at home, and on his return he was 
duly appointed secretary of state, besides being rewarded 
with benefices in the Church." In 1519 he was sent to 
Germany to further the interests of Henry VIII., as candi- 
date for the imperial throne left vacant by the death of 
Maximilian, but the plan met with no success. The following 
year he accompanied liis king to the Field of the Cloth of Gold, 
and at the close of the displays, feastings, sports, and merry- 
makings, he preached a sermon on the blessings of peace. In 
1521, after the death of Pope Leo X., he was sent to Rome to 
further the interests of Wolsey as candidate for the vacant 
papal chair, but this was without substantial result. In 1523, 
while in Venice, he was engaged in various diplomatic 
schemes when his health gave way and he was recalled to 
England. Owing to the continuance of his feeble health he 
took no further prominent activity in the affairs of state. 
Lupton says of him that he " was an amiable and accom- 
plished man. His skill in three learned languages is praised 
by his contemporaries. He was the friend of More and of 
Erasmus, and Erasmus in his extant correspondence addresses 
Pace more frequently than any other correspondent." There 
is no doubt that Wolsey was jealous of his influence with the 
king at the time of his recall from Venice. Whether that 
recall was honestly due to the failure of Pace's health, or 
whether tlie condition of health was only a convenient excuse 
to disguise Wolsey's jealousy, cannot now be certainly 
known. His nature was so sensitive that it is entirely credible 
that his prolonged ill-health, lasting over a dozen years, may 
have been caused by worry over Wolsey's jealousy. 



Y4 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

sey's ingenuity was sorely tried to supply him with 
money secretly and safely. 

The hindrances which beset Pace in carrying out 
his instructions decorously were very many. Not 
the least troublesome was the want of intelligence 
displayed by Sir Robert Wingfield, the English en- 
voy to Maximilian. Wingfield belonged to the old 
school of English officials, honest and industrious, 
but entirely incapable of finesse. He did not under- 
stand what Pace was about ; he could not compre- 
hend Wolsey's hints, but was a blind admirer of 
Maximilian, and was made his tool in his efforts to 
get the gold of England and do nothing in return. 
But Pace was deaf to the entreaties of Maximilian 
and to the lofty remonstrances of Wingfield. He 
raised 17,000 Swiss soldiers, who were to serve 
under their own general, and whose pay was not to 
pass through Maximilian's hands. Maximilian was 
sorely disappointed at this result, but led his troops 
to join the Swiss in an attack on Milan. On 24th 
March, 1516, the combined army was a few miles 
from Milan, which was poorly defended, and vic- 
tory seemed secure. Suddenly Maximilian began 
to hesitate, and then drew off his forces and retired. 
"We can only guess at the motive of this strange 
proceeding ; perhaps he had never been in earnest, 



THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 75 

and only meant to extract money from England, 
When Pace refused to pay he probably negotiated 
with Francis I., and obtained money from him. 
Anyhow his withdrawal was fatal to the expedition. 
The Germans at Brescia seized the money which 
was sent to Pace for the payment of the Swiss. 
The Swiss in anger mutinied, and Pace was for 
some days thrown into prison. Maximilian vaguely 
promised to return, but the Swiss troops naturally 
disbanded. Such was Maximilian's meanness that 
he threatened Pace, now deserted and broken by 
disappointment, that if he did not advance him money 
he would make peace with France. Pace, afraid to 
run the risk, pledged Henry YIII. to pay 60,000 
florins.* All this time "Wingfield was convinced 
that it was Pace's ill-judged parsimony that had 
wrought this disaster, and he continued to write in 
a strain of superior wisdom to Wolsey. He even, 
at Maximilian's bidding, forged Pace's name to re- 
ceipts for money. Never was diplomat in more 
hopeless plight than the unlucky Pace. 

Wolsey saw that his plan had failed, but he put a 

good face upon his failure. Maximilian enjoyed the 

advantage which consummate meanness always gives 

for a moment. He put down the failure to niggardli- 

* In this case the florin was worth about forty cents. 



76 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

ness in the supplies, and showed his good-will 
towards Henry by treating him to fantastic propos- 
als. If Henry would only cross to Flanders with 
6000 men, Maximilian would meet him with his 
army, set him up as Duke of Milan, and resign the 
Empire in his favor. This preposterous scheme did 
not for a moment dazzle the good sense of the Eng- 
lish counsellors. Pace, in announcing it to Wolsey, 
pointed out that the Emperor spoke without the 
consent of the Electors, that Maximilian was thor- 
oughly untrustworthy, and that Henry in such an 
enterprise might imperil his hold upon the English 
Crown, "which," writes Pace with pardonable 
pride, "is this day more esteemed than the Em- 
peror's crown and all his empire." Henry was of 
the same opinion; and Maximilian failed on this 
plea ' ' to pluck money from the king craftily. ' ' 
Pace remained, and jingled English money in Maxi- 
milian's ear, as a means of preventing him from 
turning to France; but not a penny was Maxi- 
milian allowed to touch, to Sir Robert Wingfield's 
great annoyance. Pace so far succeeded, that 
when, in November, 1516, Francis I. made an alli- 
ance Yfith the Swiss, five of the cantons stood aloof. 
Pace was rewarded for his labors and sufferings by 
being made a secretary of state. Sir Robert Wing- 



THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. Y7 

field received a severe rebuke from the king, which 
sorely disturbed his self-complacency. But it is 
characteristic of Wolsey's absence of personal feel- 
ing that Wingfield was not recalled from his post. 
Wolsey saw that he had been no more foolish than 
most other Englishmen would have been in his place. 
Meanwhile a change had taken place in the affairs 
of Europe which turned the attention of France and 
England alike in a new direction. Ferdinand the 
Catholic died in January 1516, and the prepon- 
derance of France had so alarmed him that he laid 
aside his plan of dividing the power of the House 
of Austria by instituting his second grandson, 
Ferdinand, King of Spain. After the battle of 
Marignano he changed his will in favor of his 
eldest grandson, the Archduke Charles, who now 
added the Spanish kingdoms to his possession of 
the l^etherlands. The young prince had just 
emancipated himself from the tutelage of Maxi- 
milian, but was under the influence of ministers 
who pursued a purely Flemish policy, and longed 
to give peace to the E'etherlands by an alliance 
with France. England was connected with Flan- 
ders by commercial interests, and long negotiations 
had been conducted with the Flemish Govern- 
ment for a close alliance. But Charles's advisers 



78 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

were won over by France, and Charles himself 
was attracted by the hope of a French marriage. 
His position was difficult, as he was poor and 
helpless; he could not even go to take possession 
of the Spanish Crowns without help from one side 
or the other. Had he been older and wiser he 
would have seen that it was safer to accept the gold 
of Henry YIII. , from whose future projects he had 
nothing to fear, rather than try and secure a pre- 
carious peace for the Netherlands by an alliance 
with France. However, Charles turned a cold ear 
to the English ambassadors, and his ministers 
secretly brought about a treaty with France, which 
was signed at Noyon in August, 1516. 

The Treaty of Noyon was a further rebuff to 
Wolsey, England was passed by in silence, and a 
tempting bait was laid to draw Maximilian also into 
the French alliance, and so leave England entirely 
without allies. Maximilian had been for some time 
at war with Venice about the possession of the 
towns of Brescia and Yerona. The treaty of ]^o- 
yon provided that the Venetians should pay the 
Emperor 200,000 crowns* and remain in possession 

* The Austrian crown, whicli is doubtless the one meant in 
this treaty, was valued at 24^ cents. The English crown was 
worth $1.31. 



THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 79 

of the disputed territory. Maximilian used this 
offer to put himself up to auction ; he expressed his 
detestation of the peace of Noyon, but pleaded that 
unless Henry came to his help he would be driven 
by poverty to accept the proffered terms. Henry 
answered by a proposal that Maximilian should 
earn the price he fixed upon his services : let him 
come into the Netherlands, and work the over- 
throw of the unwouthy ministers who gave such 
evil advice to their sovereign. Maximilian stipu- 
lated for the alloAvance which he was to receive for 
the expenses of a journey to the ^Netherlands, for 
which he began to make preparations. He raised 
all possible doubts and difficulties, and received all 
the money he could extract on any pretext from 
Henry YIII. ; at last he secretly signed the Treaty 
of Koyon in December, and drew his payments 
from both parties so long as he could keep his game 
unsuspected. 

But Wolsey was not so much deceived as Maxi- 
milian thought, and showed no discomfiture when 
Maximilian's shiftiness at length came to light. If 
Maximilian would not be faithful it was well that 
his untrustworthiness should be openly shown, and 
Francis I. , who was watching his manoeuvres, could 
not feel proud of his new ally. He knew what he 



go LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

had to expect from Maximilian when the 200,000 
crowns were spent. The money that had been 
spent on Maximilian was not wasted if it gave him 
an encouragement to display his feebleness to the 
full. 

So Henry maintained a dignified attitude, and 
showed no resentment. He received Maximilian's 
excuses with cold politeness, and waited for Francis 
I. to discover the futility of his new alliances. 
Maximilian was clearly of no account. Charles had 
gained all that he could gain from his League with 
France towards quieting the I^etherlands ; for his 
next step, a journey to Spain, he needed the help 
of England, and soon dropped his attitude of indif- 
ference. After thwarting England as much as he 
could, he was driven to beg for a loan to cover the 
expenses of his journey, and England showed no 
petty resentment for his past conduct. The loan 
was negotiated, Charles's ambassadors were honor- 
ably received, it was even proposed that he should 
visit Henry on his way. This honor Charles cau- 
tiously declined on the ground of ill health ; but all 
the other marks of Henry's good- will were accepted 
with gratitude, and in September, 1517, Charles set 
out on his voyage to Spain, where he found enough 
to employ his energies for some time. 



THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 81 

This conciliatory attitude of England was due to 
a perception that the time had come when simple 
opposition to France was no longer useful. Eng- 
land had so far succeeded as to prevent the French 
ascendency from being complete ; she had stemmed 
the current, had shown Francis I. the extent of her 
resources, and had displayed unexpected skill. 
Moreover, she had made it clear that neither she 
nor France could form a combination sufficiently 
powerful to enable the one to crush the other, and 
had given Francis I. a lesson as to the amount of 
fidelity he might expect from his allies. .When it 
was clear to both sides that there was no hope for 
far-reaching schemes, it was natural for the two 
powers to draw together, and seek a reasonable re- 
dress for the grievances which immediately affected 
them. 

Chief amongst these on the French side was the 

possession of Tournai by the English, glorious, no 

doubt, as a troph}^ of English valor, but of very 

doubtful advantage to England. Negotiations about 

its restoration were begun as early as March, 1517, 

and were conducted with profound secrecy. Of 

course Charles hoped to get Tournai into his own 

hands, and did not wish it to be restored to France. 

It was necessary to keep him in ignorance of what 
6 



82 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

was going on, and not till he had sailed to Spain 
were there any rumors of what was passing. 

"Wolsey and Henry YIII. deceived the ambassa- 
dors of Charles and of Venice by their repeated pro- 
fessions of hostility against France, and Charles's re- 
monstrances were answered by equivocations, so that 
he had no opportunity for interfering till the matter 
had been agreed upon as part of a close alliance be- 
tween England and France. The negotiations for 
this purpose were long and intricate, and form the 
masterpiece of Wolsey 's diplomatic skill. They 
were made more difficult by the outbreak in Eng- 
land of a pestilence, the sweating sickness, before 
which Henry fled from London and moved uneasily 
from place to place. Wolsey was attacked by it in 
June so seriously that his life was despaired of; 
scarcely was he recovered when he suffered from a 
second attack, and soon after went on a pilgrimage 
to Walsingham to perform a vow and enjoy change 
of air. But with this exception, he stuck manfully 
to his work in London, where, beside his manifold 
duties in internal administration, he directed the 
course of the negotiations with France. 

In fact Wolsey alone was responsible for the 
change of policy indicated by the French alliance. 
He had thoroughly carried the king with him ; but 



THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 83 

he was well aware that his course was likely to be 
exceedingly unpopular, and that on him would fall 
the blame of any failure. Henry did not even in- 
form his Council of his plans. He knew that they 
would all have been opposed to such a sudden change 
of policy, which could only be justified in their eyes 
by its manifest advantage in the end. "Wolsey was 
conscious that he must not only conclude an alliance 
with France, but must show beyond dispute a clear 
gain to England from so doing. 

Wolsey 's difficulties were somewhat lessened by 
the birth of an heir to the French Crown in. February, 
1518. France could now offer, as a guarantee for 
her close alliance with England, a proposal of marri- 
age between the Dauphin and Henry's only daughter 
Mary. Still the negotiations cautiously went on 
while Wolsey drove the hardest bargain that he 
could. They were not finished till September, 
when a nmnerous body of French nobles came on 
a splendid embassy to London. Never had such 
magnificence been seen in England before as that 
with which Henry YIII. received his new allies. 
Even the French nobles admitted that it was be- 
yond their power to describe. Wolsey entertained 
the company at a sumptuous supper in his house at 
Westminster, 'Hhe like of which," says theYene- 



84 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

tian envoy, " was never given by Cleopatra or Cali- 
gula, the whole banqueting hall being decorated with 
huge vases of gold and silver. ' ' After the banquet 
a band of mummers, wearing visors on their faces, 
entered and danced. There were twelve ladies and 
twelve gentlemen, attended by twelve torch-bearers ; 
all were clad alike "in fine green satin, all over 
covered with cloth of gold, undertied together with 
laces of gold." They danced for some time and 
then removed their masks, and the evening passed 
in mirth. Such were the festivities of the English 
Court, which Shakespeare has produced, accurately 
enough, in his play of Henry VIII. 

But these Court festivities were only preliminary 
to the public ceremonies whereby Wolsey impressed 
the imagination of the people. The proclamation of 
the treaty and the marriage of the Princess Mary by 
proxy were both the occasions of splendid ceremo- 
nies in St. Paul's Cathedral. The people were de- 
lighted, by pageantry and good cheer ; the opposi- 
tion of old-fashioned politicians was overborne in 
the prevailing enthusiasm; and men spoke only of 
the triumph of a pacific policy which had achieved 
results such as warfare could not have won. Indeed, 
the advantages which England obtained were sub- 
stantial. France bought back Tournai for 600,000 



teE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 85 

crowns,* and entered into a close alliance with Eng- 
land, which cut it olf from interference in the affairs 
of Scotland, which Avas included in the peace so 
long as it abstained from hostilities. But more im- 
portant than this was the fact that Wolsey insisted 
on the alliance between France and England being 
made the basis of a universal peace. The Pope, the 
Emperor, the King of Spain, were ail invited to 
join, and all complied with the invitation. 

None of them, however, complied with good-will, 
least of all Pope Leo X. , whose claim to be the of- 
ficial pacifier of Europe was rudely set aside by the 
audacious action of "Wolsey. Leo hoped that the 
bestowal of a cardinal's hat had established a hold 
on Wolsey 's gratitude; but he soon found that he 
was mistaken, and that his cunning was no match 
for "VVolsej^'s force, l^o sooner had Wolsey ob- 
tained the cardinalate than he pressed for the fur- 
ther dignity of papal legate in England. ]^ot un- 
naturally Leo refused to endow with such an office 
a minister already so powerful as to be almost inde- 
pendent ; but Y^olsey made him pay for his refusal. 
Leo wanted money, and the pressure of the Turk 
on Southern Europe lent a color to his demand of 

* If English crowns are intended here, the suixi would amount 
to more than $675,000, 



86 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

clerical taxation for the purposes of a crusade. In 
1517 he sent out legates to the chief kings of Chris- 
tendom ; but Henry refused to admit Cardinal Cam- 
peggio,* saying that ''it was not the rule of this 

* The legatus a latere (legate from the side) is of two kinds : 
the first is called ordinary, and governs provinces ; the second 
is extraordinary, and is sent to foreign countries on extraor- 
dinary occasions, to all intents and purposes the same as 
minister plenipotentiary. ' ' Such a legate was entrusted 
with powers almost as full as those of the Pope himself ; his 
jurisdiction extended over every bishop and priest, it over- 
rode every privilege or exemption of abbey or cell, while his 
court superseded that of Rome as the final court of ecclesias- 
tical appeal for the realm." 

" Lorenzo Campeggio (1472-1539), cardinal, and although a 
foreigner, bishop of Salisbury, occupied on his second mission 
to England the utterly unprecedented position of a judge 
before whom the King of England consented to sue in per- 
son. . . . He was sent to England as legate to incite Henry 
Vni. to unite with other princes in a crusade against the 
Turks. He was detained some time at Calais before being al- 
lowed to cross, Henry VIII. having insisted with the Pope that 
his favorite, Cardinal Wolsey, should be invested with equal 
legatine functions before he landed. ... In 1527 he was be- 
sieged with Pope Clement VII. at Rome, in the castle of St. 
Angelo. Next year he was sent into England on his most 
celebrated mission, in w^hich Wolsey was again joined with 
him as legate, to hear the divorce suit of Henry VIII. against 
Katharine of Arragon. On this occasion he suffered much, 
both physically and mentall3^ He was severely afflicted 
with gout, and had to be carried about in a litter ; and, while 
he was pledged to the Pope in private not to deliver judgment 
without referring the matter to Rome, he was pressed by 
Wolsey to proceed without delay. Some of his ciphered de- 
spatches from London at tliis time have been deciphered 
within the last few years, and show a very creditable deter- 
mination on his part not to be made the instrument of injus- 
tice, whatever might be the cost to himself. The cause, as is 



THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 87 

realm to admit legates a latere. ' ^ Then Wolsey in- 
tervened and suggested that Campeggio might come 
if he would exercise no exceptional powers, and if 
his dignity were shared by himself. Leo was forced 
to jrield, and Campeggio' s arrival was made the oc- 
casion of stately ceremonies which redounded to 
Wolsey's glorification. Campeggio got little for the 
crusade, but served to grace the festivities of the 
French alliance, and afterwards to convey the Pope's 
adhesion to the universal peace. Wolse^^ had taken 
matters out of the Pope's hand, and Leo was driven 
to follow his lead with what grace he could muster. 
Perhaps as he sighed over his discomfiture he con- 
soled himself with the thought that the new peace 
would not last much longer than those previously 
made ; if he did, he was right in his opinion. 

well known, was revoked to Rome, and so his mission ter- 
minated. On leaving the kingdom he was treated with 
singular discourtesy by the officers of customs, who insisted 
on searching his baggage ; and on his complaining to the 
king, it was clear that the insult was premeditated, and it 
was really a petty-minded indication of the royal displeasure. 
Five years later he was deprived of the bishopric of Salisbury 
by act of parliament, on the ground that he was an alien and 
non-resident, though the king had certainly never expected 
him to keep residence when he gave him the bishopric. He 
died at Rome in 1539." — James Gairdner, in Dictionary of 
National Biography. At Nuremberg, in 1524, Campeggio 
tried to win Luther back to the Catholic Church. At the 
Diet of Augsburg, in 1530, he advised Charles V. to adopt a 
relentless policy toward the Protestants of Germany. 



CHAPTEE lY. 

THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 
1518-1520. 

The object of Wolsey's foreign policy had been 
attained by the universal peace of 1518. England 
had been set up as the mediator in the politics of 
Europe. The old claims of the empire and the 
papacy had passed away in the conflict of national 
and dynastic interests, in which papacy and empire 
were alike involved. England, by virtue of its 
insular position, was practically outside the objects 
of immediate ambition which distracted its Conti- 
nental neighbors ; but England's commercial inter- 
ests made her desirous of influence, and Henry YIII. 
was bent upon being an important personage. It 
was Wolsey's object to gratify the king at the least 
expense to the country, and so long as the king 
could be exalted by peaceful means, the good of 
England was certainly promoted at the same time. 
The position of England as the pacifier of Europe 
was one well qualified to develop a national con- 

88 



THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 89 

sciousness of great duties to perform ; and it may 
be doubted if a countr}^ is ever great unless it has a 
clear consciousness of some great mission. 

Wolsey's policy had been skilful, and the results 
which he had obtained were glorious ; but it was 
diflBcult to maintain the position which he had won. 
It was one thing to proclaim a peace ; it was an- 
other to contrive that peace should be kept. One 
important question was looming in the distance 
when Wolsey's peace was signed, — the succession 
to the empire on Maximilian's death. Unfortu- 
nately this question came rapidly forward for deci- 
sion, as Maximilian died suddenly on 12th January, 
1519, and the politicians of Europe waited breath- 
lessl}^ to see who would be chosen as his successor. 

The election to the empire rested with the seven 
electors, the chief princes of Germany ; but if they 
had been minded on this occasion to exercise freely 
their right, it would have been difficult for them to 
do so. The empire had for a century been with 
the house of Austria, and Maximilian had schemed 
eagerly that it should pass to his grandson Charles. 
It is true that Charles was already King of Spain, 
Lord of the ]S"etherlands, and King of JSTaples and 
Sicily, so that it seemed dangerous to increase still 
further his great dominions. But Charles urge<i 



00 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

his claim, and his great rival, Francis I. of France, 
entered the lists against him. Strange as it may 
seem that a French king should aspire to rule over 
Germany, Francis I. could urge that he was almost 
as closely connected with Germany as was Charles, 
whose interests were bound up with those of Spain 
and the E'etherlands. In the face of these two 
competitors, it was hard for the electors to find a 
candidate of a humbler sort who would venture to 
draw upon himself the wrath of their disappoint- 
ment. Moreover, the task of ruling Germany was 
not such as to attract a small prince. The Turks 
were threatening its borders, and a strong man was 
needed to deal with many pressing problems of its 
government. The electors, however, were scarcely 
guilty of any patriotic considerations ; they quietly 
put up their votes for auction between Francis and 
Charles, and deferred a choice as long as they could. 
Both competitors turned for help to their allies, 
the Pope and the King of England, who found 
themselves greatly perplexed. Leo X. did not 
wish to see French influence increased, as France 
was a dangerous neighbor in Italy ; nor did he 
wish to see the empire and the kingdom of J^aples 
both held by the same man, for that was against 
the immemorial policy of the Papacy. So Leo in- 



THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 91 

trigued and prevaricated to such an extent that it 
is almost impossible to determine what he was 
aiming at. He managed, however, to throw hin- 
drances in Wolsey's path, though we cannot be sure 
that he intended to do so. 

Wolsey's plan of action was clear, though it was 
not dignified. He wished to preserve England's 
mediating attitude and give offence to no one; 
consequently, he secretly promised his help both 
to Charles and Francis, and tried to arrange that 
each should be ignorant of his promises to the other. 
All went well till Leo, in his diplomatic divaga- 
tions, commissioned his legate to suggest to Henry 
YIII. that it might be possible, after all, to find 
some third candidate for the empire, and that he 
was ready to try and put off the election for that 
purpose, if Henry agreed. Henry seems to have 
considered this as a hint from the Pope to become 
a candidate himself. He remembered that Maxi- 
milian had offered to resign the empire in his favor, 
but he forgot the sufficient reasons which had led 
him to dismiss the proposal as fantastic and absurd. 
His vanity was rather tickled with the notion of 
rivalling Charles and Francis, and he thought that 
if the Pope were on his side, his chances would be 
as good as theirs. 



92 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

We can only guess at Wolsey's dismay when his 
master laid this project before him. Whatever 
Wolsey thought, he knew that it was useless to 
offer any opposition. However much he might be 
able to influence the king's opinions in the making, 
he knew that he must execute them when they were 
made. If Henry had made up his mind to become 
a candidate for the empire, a candidate he must 
be. All that could be done Avas to prevent his 
determination from being hopelessly disastrous. 
So Wolsey pointed out that great as were the ad- 
vantages to be obtained by gaining the empire, 
there were dangers in being an unsuccessful candi- 
date. It was necessary first to make sure of the 
Pope, and then to prosecute Henry's candidature 
by fair and honorable means. Francis was spend- 
ing money lavishly to win supporters to his side ; 
and Charles was reluctantly compelled to follow 
his example lest he should be outbid. It would be 
unwise for Henry to squander his money and simply 
raise the market price of the votes. Let him make 
it clear to the greedy Germans that they would not 
see the color of England's money till the English 
king had been really elected. 

So Wolsey sent the most cautious instructions to 
his agent in Eome to see if the Pope would take the 



THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 93 

responsibility of urging Henry to become a candidate ; 
but Leo was too cautious, and affected not to under- 
stand the hint. Then in May, Pace, who was now the 
king's secretary, was sent to Germany to sound the 
electors with equal care. He was to approach the elec- 
tors who were on Francis's side, as though Henry 
were in favor of Francis,' and was to act similarly 
to those who were in favor of Charles ; then he was 
to hint cautiously that it might be well to choose 
some one more closely connected with Germany, 
and if they showed any acquiescence, was to suggest 
that Henry was ^'of the German tongue," and 
then was to sing his praises. Probably both Pace 
and Wolsey knew that it was too late to do any- 
thing serious. Pace reported that the money of 
France and Spain was flowing on all sides, and was 
of opinion that the empire was ' ' the dearest mer- 
chandise that ever was sold," and would prove 
" the Avorst that ever was bought to him that shall 
obtain it. ' ' Yet still he professed to have hopes, 
and even asked for money to enter the lists of cor- 
ruption. But this was needless, as the election at 
last proceeded quickly. The Pope came round to 
the side of Charles as being the least of two evils, 
and Charles was elected on 28th June. 

Thus Wolsey succeeded in satisfying his master's 



94 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

demands without committing England to any breach 
with either of her allies. Henry YIII. could 
scarcely be gratified at the part that he had played, 
but Wolsey could convince him that he had tried 
his best, and that at any rate no harm had been 
done. Though Henry's proceedings were known 
to Francis and Charles, there was nothing at which 
they could take offence. Henry had behaved with 
duplicity, but that was only to be expected in those 
days; he had not pronounced himself strongly 
against either. The ill-will that had long been sim- 
mering between Charles Y. and Francis I. had risen 
to the surface, and the long rivalr}^- between the 
two monarchs was now declared. Each looked for 
allies, and the most important ally was England. 
Each had hopes of winning over the English king, 
and Wolsey wished to keep alive, without satisfy- 
ing, the hopes of both, and so establish still more 
securely the power of England as holding the bal- 
ance of the peace of EurojDe. 

Wolsey 's conduct in this matter throws much 
light on his relations to the king, and the method 
by which he retained his influence and managed to 
carry out his own designs. He appreciated the 
truth that a statesman must lead while seeming to 
follow — a truth which applies equally to all forms 



THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 95 

of government. Wolsey was responsible to no one 
but the king, and so had a better opportunity than 
has a statesman who serves a democracy to obtain 
permission to carry out a consecutive policy. But, 
on the other hand, he was more liable to be 
thwarted and interrupted in matters of detail by 
the interference of a superior. Wolsey's far-see- 
ing policy was endangered by the king's vanity 
and obstinacy ; he could not ask for time to justify 
his own wisdom, but was forced to obey. Yet 
even then he would not abandon his own position 
and set himself to minimize the inconvenience. It 
is impossible to know how often Wolsey was at 
other times obliged to give way to the king and 
adopt the second-best course; but in this case we 
find clear indications of the process. When 
he was driven from his course, he contrived that 
the deviation should be as unimportant as possi- 
ble. 

Wolsey's task of maintaining peace by English 
mediation was beset with difficulties now that the 
breach between Francis I. and Charles Y. was clearly 
made. It was necessary for England to be friendly 
to both, and not to be drawn by its friendliness to- 
wards either to offend the other. In the matter of 
the imperial election English influence had been 



96 1^5^ OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

somewhat on the side of Charles, and Francis was 
now the one who needed propitiation. The treaty 
with France had provided for a personal interview 
between the two kings, and Francis was anxious 
that it should take place at once. For this purpose he 
strove to win the good offices of Wolsey . He assured 
him that in case of a papal election he could com- 
mand fourteen votes which should be given in his 
favor. Moreover, he conferred on him a signal mark 
of his confidence by nominating him his plenipo- 
tentiary for the arrangements about the forthcoming 
interview. By this all difficulties were removed, 
and Wolsey stood forward before the eyes of Europe 
as the accredited representative of the kings of Eng- 
land and France at the same time. It is no wonder 
that men marvelled at such an unheard-of position 
for an English subject. 

But nothing that Francis had to give could turn 
Wolsey away from his own path. 'No sooner did he 
know that the French interview was agreed upon 
than he suggested to Charles that it would be well 
for him also to have a meeting with the English 
king. The proposal was eagerly accepted, and 
"Wolsey conducted the negotiations about both inter- 
views side by side. Barely did two meetings cause 
such a flow of ink and raise so many knotty points, 



THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 97 

At last it was agreed that Charles should visit Henry 
in England in an informal way before the French 
interview took place. It was difficult to induce the 
punctilious Spaniards to give way to Wolsey's re- 
quirements. It was a hard thing for one who bore 
the high-sounding title of Emperor to agree to visit 
a King of England on his own terms. But Wolsey 
was resolute that everything should be done in such 
a way as to give France the least cause of complaint. 
When the Spanish envoys objected to his arrange- 
ments or proposed alterations, he brought them to 
their bearings by sajdng, ' ' Yery well ; then do not do 
it and begone. ' ' They were made to feel their depen- 
dence on himself. The interview was of their seek- 
ing, and must be held on terms which he proposed, 
or not at aU. This, no doubt, was felt to be very 
haughty conduct on Wolsey's part; but he had set 
on foot the scheme of this double interview, by which 
Henry was to be glorified and England's mediatorial 
position assured. It was his business to see that his 
plan succeeded. So he turned a deaf ear to the offers 
of the Spanish ambassadors. He was not to be 
moved By the promise of ecclesiastical revenues in 
Spain. Even when the influence of Spain was prof- 
fered to secure his election to the Papacy, he coldly 
refused. 
7 



98 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

It has been said that Wolsey was open to bribes, 
and his seemingly tortuous policy has been accounted 
for by the supposition that he inclined to the side 
which promised him most. This, however, is an 
entire mistake. Wolsey went his own way ; but at 
the same time he did not disregard his personal 
profit. He was too great a man to be bribed ; but 
his greatness entailed magnificence, and magnificence 
is expensive. He regarded it as natural that sover- 
eigns who threw work upon his shoulders should 
make some recognition of his labors. This was the 
custom of the time ; and Wolsey was by no means 
singular in receiving gifts from foreign kings. 
The chief lords of Henry's Court received pensions 
from the King of France; and the lords of the 
French Court were similarly rewarded by Henry. 
This was merely a complimentary custom, and was 
open and avowed. Wolsey received a pension from 
Francis I. , and a further sum as compensation for 
the bishopric of Tournai, which he resigned when 
Tournai was returned to France. In like manner, 
Charles Y. rewarded him by a Spanish bishopric ; 
but Wolsey declined the office of bishop, and pre- 
ferred to receive a fixed pension secured on the rev- 
enues of the see. This iniquitous arrangement was 
carried out with the Pope's consent 5 and suchlike 



I 



THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 99 

arrangements were by no means rare. They were 
the natural result of the excessive wealth of the 
Church, which was diverted to the royal uses by a 
series of fictions, more or less barefaced, but all 
tending to the weakening of the ecclesiastical 
organization. Still the fact remains that Wolsey 
thought no shame of receiving pensions from Francis 
and Charles alike ; but there was nothing secret nor 
extraordinary in this. "Wolsey regarded it as only 
obvious that his statesmanship should be rewarded 
by those for whom it was exercised ; but the Em- 
peror and the King of France never hoped that by 
these pensions they would attach Wolsey to their 
side. The promise by which they tried to win him 
was the promise of the Papacy ; and to this Wolsey 
turned a deaf ear. ' ' He is seven times more power- 
ful than the Pope," wrote the Venetian ambas- 
sador ; and perhaps Wolsey himself at this time was 
of the same opinion. 

Meanwhile Francis Avas annoyed when he heard 
of these dealings with Charles, and tried to coun- 
teract them by pressing for an early date of his 
meeting with Henry YIII. It is amazing to find 
how large a part domestic events were made to play 
in these matters of high policy when occasion 
needed. Francis urged that he was very anxious 
a.ofC. 



100 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

for his queen to be present to welcome Katharine ; 
but she was expecting her confinement, and if the 
interview did not take place soon she would be un- 
able to appear. / "Wolsey replied with equal concern 
for family affairs, that the Emperor was anxious to 
visit his aunt, whom he had never seen, and Henry 
could not be so churlish as to refuse a visit from his 
wife's relative. Katharine, on her side, was over- 
joyed at this renewal of intimacy with the Spanish 
Court, to whose interests she was strongly attached, 
and tried to prevent the understanding with France, 
by declaring that she could not possibly have her 
dresses ready under three months. In her dislike 
of the French alliance Queen Katharine expressed 
the popular sentiment. The people had long re- 
garded France as the natural enemy of England, 
and were slow to give up their prejudices. The 
nobles grew more and more discontented with Wol- 
sey' s policy, which they did not care to understand. 
They only saw that their expectations of a return to 
power were utterly disappointed ; Wolsey, backed 
by officials such as Pace, was all-powerful, and they 
were disregarded. Wolsey was working abso- 
lutely single-handed. It is a remarkable proof of 
his skill that he was able to draw the king to fol- 
low him unhesitatingly, at tjie sacrifice of his per- 



THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. IQl 

sonal popularity, and in spite of the representations 
of those who were immediately around him. 

Moreover, Wolsey, in his capacity of representative 
of the Kings of England and France, had in his hands 
the entire management of all concerning the coming 
interview. He fixed the place with due regard to 
the honor of England, almost on English soil. The 
English king was not to lodge outside his own ter- 
ritory of Calais ; the spot appointed for the meeting 
was on the meadows between Guisnes and Ardres, 
on the borderland of the two kingdoms. Wolsey 
had to decide which of the English nobles and gen- 
try were to attend the king, and had to assign to 
each his office and dignity. The king's retinue 
amounted to nearly 4000, and the queen's was 
somewhat over 1000. A very slight knowledge of 
human nature will serve to show how many people 
Wolsey must necessarily have offended. If the 
ranks of his enemies were large before, they must 
have increased enormously when his arrangements 
were made known. 

Still Wolsey was not daunted, and however much 
every one, from Francis and Charles, felt aggrieved 
by his proceedings, all had to obey ; and everything 
that took place was due to Wolsey 's will alone. 
The interview with Charles was sunple. On 26th 



102 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

May, 1520, lie landed at Dover, and was met by 
"Wolsey ; next morning Henry rode to meet him and 
escort him to Canterbury, which was his head- 
quarters; on the 29th Charles rode to Sandwich, 
where he embarked for Flanders. What subjects 
the two monarchs discussed we can only dhnly 
guess. Each promised to help the other if attacked 
by France, and probably Henry undertook to bring 
about a joint-conference of the three sovereigns to 
discuss their common interests. The importance of 
the meeting lay in its display of friendliness ; in the 
warning which it gave to France that she was not 
to count upon the exclusive possession of England's 
good- will. 

E"o sooner was the Emperor gone than Henry 
embarked for Calais, and arrived at Guisnes on 4th 
June. We need not describe again the ' ' Field of 
the Cloth of Gold," to furnish which the art of the 
Eenaissance was used to deck medieval pageantry. 
It is enough to say that stately palaces of wood 
clothed the barren stretch of flat meadows, and that 
every ornament which man's imagination could de- 
vise was employed to lend splendor to the scene. 
No doubt it was barbaric, wasteful, and foolish; 
but men in those days loved the sight of magnifi- 
cence, and the display was as much for the enjoy- 



THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 103 

ment of countless spectators as for the self-glorifica- 
tion of those who were the main actors. In those 
days the solace of a poor man's life was the oc- 
casional enjoyment of a stately spectacle ; and after 
all, splendor gives more pleasure to the lookers-on 
than to the personages of the show. 

Most splendid among the glittering throng was 
the figure of Wolsey, who had to support the 
dignity of representative of both kings, and spared 
no pains to do it to the full. But while the jousts 
went on, Wolsey was busy with diplomacy ; there 
were many points relating to a good understanding 
between France and England, which he wished to 
arrange, — the projected marriage of the Dauphin 
with Mary of England, the payment due from 
France to England on several heads, the relations 
between France and Scotland and the like. More 
important than these was the reconciliation of 
Charles with Francis, which Wolsey pressed to the 
utmost of his persuasiveness, without, however, 
reaching any definite conclusion. Charles was 
hovering on the Flemish border, ready at a hint 
from Wolsey to join the conference; but Wolsey 
could find no good reasons for giving it, and when 
the festivities came to an end on 24:th June, it might 
be doubted if much substantial good had resulted 



104 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

from the interview. 'No doubt the French and 
English fraternized, and swore friendship over their 
cups ; but tournaments were not the happiest means 
of allaying feelings of rivalry, and the protestations 
of friendship were little more than lip-deep. Yet 
"Wolsey cannot be blamed for being over-sanguine. 
It was at least a worthy end that he had before him, 
— the removal of long-standing hostility, the settle- 
ment of old disputes, the union of two neighboring 
nations by the assertion of common aims and com- 
mon interests. However we may condemn the 
methods which "Wolsey used, at least we must admit 
that his end was in accordance with the most en- 
lightened views of modern statesmanship. 

When Henry had taken leave of Francis, he 
waited in Calais for the coming of Charles, whose 
visit to England was understood to be merely pre- 
liminary to further negotiations. Again Henry 
held the important position; he went to meet 
Charles at Gravelines, where he stayed for a night, 
and then escorted Charles as his guest to Calais, 
where he stayed from 10th to 14:th July. The re- 
sult of the conference was a formal treaty of alliance 
between the two sovereigns, which Charles proposed 
to confirm by betrothing himself to Henry's daugh- 
ter Mary. As she was a child of four years old^ 



THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 105 

such an undertaking did not bind him to much ; but 
Mary was already betrothed to the Dauphin, while 
Charles was also alread}^ betrothed to Charlotte of 
France, so that the proposal aimed at a double breach 
of existing relationships and treaties. Henry listened 
to this scheme, which opened up the way for fur- 
ther negotiation, and the two monarchs parted with 
protestations of friendship. It was now the turn of 
Francis to hang about the place where Henry was 
holding conference with his rival, in hopes that he 
too might be invited to their discussions. He had 
to content himself with hearing that Henry rode a 
steed which he had presented to him, and that his 
face did not look so contented and cheerful as when 
he was on the meadows of Guisnes. In due time 
he received from Henry an account of what had 
]3assed between himself and the Emperor. Henry 
informed him of Charles's marriage projects, and of 
his proposal for an alliance against France, both of 
which Henry falsely said that he had rejected with 
holy horror. 

Truly the records of diplomacy are dreary, and 
the results of all this displaj^, this ingenious schem- 
ing, and this deceit seem ludicrously small. The 
upshot, however, was that Wolsey's ideas still re- 
mained dominant, and that the position which he 



l06 LIf'E OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

had marked out for England was still maintained. 
He had been compelled to change the form of his 
policy, but its essence was unchanged. European 
affairs could no longer be directed by a universal 
peace under the guarantee of England ; so Wolsey 
substituted for it a system of separate alliances with 
England, by which England exercised a mediating 
influence on the policy of the two monarchs, whose 
rivalry threatened a breach of European peace. He 
informed Francis of the schemes of Charles, that he 
might show him how much depended on English 
mediation. He so conducted matters that Charles 
and Francis should both be aware that England 
could make advantageous terms with either, that 
her interests did not tend to one side rather than 
the other, that both should be willing to secure her 
good- will, and should shrink from taking any step 
which would throw her on the side of his adversary. 
It was a result worth achieving, though the position 
was precarious, and required constant watchfulness 
to maintain."^ 

* " This meeting," writes Guizot, " has remained celebrated 
in history far more for its royal pomp and for the personal 
incidents which were connected with it than for its political 
results. It was called The Field of the Cloth of Gold; and the 
courtiers who attended the two sovereigns felt bound to 
almost rival them in sumptuousness, 'insomuch that many 
bore their mills, their forests, and their meadows on their 



THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 107 

backs.' Henry VIII. had employed eleven hundred work- 
men, the most skilful of Flanders and Holland, in building a 
quadrangular palace of wood, 128 feet long every way ; on 
one side of the entrance gate was a fountain, covered with 
gilding and surmounted by a statue of Bacchus, round which 
there flowed through subterranean pipes all sorts of wines, 
and which bore, in letters of gold, the inscription. Make good 
CHEER, WHO WILL ; and on the other side a column, supported 
by four lions, was surmounted by a statue of Cupid armed 
with bow and arrows. Opposite the palace was erected a 
huge figure of a savage wearing the arms of his race, with 
this inscription chosen by Henry VIII., He whom I back 
WINS. The f runtage was covered outside With canvas painted 
to represent freestone ; and the inside was hung with rich 
tapestries. Francis I., emulous of equaling his royal neighbor 
in magnificence, had ordered to be erected close to Ardres an 
immense tent, upheld in the middle by a colossal pole firmly 
fixed in the ground and with pegs and cordage all around it. 
Outside, the tent in the shape of a dome, was covered with 
cloth of gold ; and inside, it represented a sphere witli a ground 
of blue velvet and studded with stars like the firmament. At 
each angle of the large tent was a small one, equally richly 
decorated. But before the two sovereigns exchanged visits, 
in the midst of all these preparations, there arose a violent 
hurricane which tore up the pegs and split the cordage of 
the French tent, scattered them over the ground and forced 
Francis I. to take up his quarters in an old castle near Ardres. 
When the two kings' two chief councillors. Cardinal Wolsej^ 
on one side and Admiral Bonniveton tlie other, had regulated 
the formalities, on the 7th of June, 1520, Francis I. and Henry 
VIII. set out on their way at the same hour and the same 
pace for their meeting in the valley of Ardres, where a tent 
had been prepared for them." 

The meeting of the two kings is described by Miss Pardee 
in the following words : " The Due de Bourbon, as Connetable 
of France, bore his drawn sword in front of his sovereign, 
which Henry VIII. no sooner remarked than he desired the 
Marquis of Dorset, who carried his own sword of state, to 
unsheath it in like manner ; and this done, the monarchs 



108 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

rode into the valley, where they at length met face to face at 
the head of two of the most brilliant assemblages of nobility 
which had ever been seen in Europe. For a brief instant, 
both paused as they surveyed each other with astonishment 
and admiration ; for they were at that period, beyond all 
parallel, the two most comely princes in Christendom. Fran- 
cis was the taller and the more slender of the two ; and was 
attired in a vest of cloth of silver damasked with gold, and 
edged with a border of embossed work in party-colored silks. 
Over this he wore a cloak of brocaded satin, with a scarf of 
gold and purple crossing over one shoulder, and buttoned to 
the waist, richly set with pearls and precious stones ; while 
his long hair escaped from a coif of damasked gold set with 
diamonds, and gave him a noble and graceful aj)pearance 
which his splendid horsemanship, and handsome, although 
strongly defined, features, his bushy whiskers, and ample 
mustache, tended to enhance. 

" Henry, on his side, wore a vest of crimson velvet slashed 
with white satin, and buttoned down the chest with studs 
composed of large and precious jewels ; and his round velvet 
toque or hat was surmounted by a profuse plume which floated 
on the wind, save where it was confined by a star of brilliants. 
His figure, although more bulky than that of his brother 
monarch, was still well proportioned ; his movements were 
elastic and unembarrassed ; and his face attractive from the 
frankness of its expression, the singular brightness of his 
eyes, and the luxuriance of his hair and beard, which he wore 
in a dense fringe beneath his chin, and which was at that 
period less red than golden. 

" The mutual scrutiny of the two young sovereigns lasted 
only a moment ; in the next they were in each other's arms, 
each straining from the saddle to embrace his brother mon- 
arch. The horse of Henry swerved for an instant, impatient 
of the impediment, but the hand of Francis firmly grasped 
the rein which its rider had suffered to escape him ; and after 
a renewed exchange of courtesies, the attendant equerries 
were summoned to hold the stirrups of their royal masters as 
they alighted. On gaining their feet, the two kings ex- 
changed another embrace ; and then, arm-in-arm, they pro- 



THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 109 

ceeded to the pavilion of audience, followed each by his 
selected witnesses." 

If the reader desires a further description of this gorireous. 
but nearly useless, spectacle, he is referred to a remarlcabiy 
picturesque passage in "■Monk and Knight: an Historical 
Study in Fiction," by Dr. Frank W. Gunsaulus. 



CHAPTER Y. 

THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 
1520-1521. 

The most significant point in the mediatorial 
policy of Wolsey was the fact that it threw the 
Papacy entirely into the shade. "What Wolsey 
was doing was the traditional business of the Pope, 
who could not openly gainsay a policy which he 
was bound to profess coincided with his own. So 
Leo X. followed Wolsey's lead of keeping on good 
terms with France and the Emperor alike; but 
Leo had no real wish for peace. He wished to 
gain something in Italy for the Medici, and nothing 
was to be gained while France and Spain suspended 
hostilities. Only in time of war could he hope to 
carry out his own plans by balancing one combat- 
ant against the other. Charles's ambassador was 
not wrong in saying that Leo hated Wolsey more 
than any other man ; and Leo tried to upset his 
plans by drawing nearer to the imperial side. 

110 



THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. HI 

It required very little to provoke war between 
Francis and Charles ; either would begin the attack 
if the conditions were a little more favorable, or if 
he could secure an ally. But Charles was weak 
owing to the want of unity of interest in his un- 
wieldy dominions. Germany was disturbed by the 
opinions of Luther;* Spain was disturbed by a re- 

* Martin Luther (1483-1546) was the originator and leader 
of the German reformation. He was born at Eisleben, the 
son of a miner, and was very poor. While in the university 
of Erfurt, he manifested absorbing interest in the solitary 
copy of the Bible that was in the library, chained there for 
safe-keeping. An experience of a dangerous illness, and the 
sudden death of a friend who was killed by a stroke of light- 
ning, touched his conscience, and he vowed to give himself 
to the monastic life. Accordingly in 1505 he entered the 
Augustinian monastery at Erfurt. He was later appointed 
professor of philosophy in the university of Wittenberg. In 
1510 he visited Rome, and the luxury and vice which he saw 
abounding in that city, where he had imagined everytliing to 
be holy and apostolic, were a great shock to his feelings, and 
lie more fully adopted the theology of Augustine, from whom 
the monastic order derived its name, and especially the 
cardinal principle of salvation by faith. In 1517 one Tetzel, 
a commissioner of Pope LeoX., was selling indulgences in a 
way that roused all of Luther's indignation ; for, in order to 
increase the sale of his spiritual wares, Tetzel claimed that 
these indulgences absolved the purchasers from all conse- 
quences of sin, both here and hereafter. Following the 
customs of the universities of the day, Luther wrote out 
ninety-five theses in opposition to the doctrine of indulgences, 
posted them upon the door of the church, offering to defend 
the same in public debate against all comers. This may be 
called the beginning of Protestantism, for it was the most 
conspicuous and emphatic protest of that age against the 



112 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

volt of the cities against long-standing misgovern- 
ment. Charles was not ready for war, nor was 
Francis much better provided. His coffers were 

doctrines and practices of the Catholic Church. The opening' 
of this question involved Luther in violent controversies. 

Luther was summoned to Rome to answer charges of 
heresy, but he refused to go. The Pope issued a bull con- 
demning Luther's teachings, but Luther, in the presence of a 
great crowd of professors, students, and others, ostentatiously 
burned the bull and with it the decretals and canons relating 
to the Pope's supreme authority. The breach between him 
and the authorities of the Church was now too wide to be re- 
paired. He was summoned for trial before the Diet of 
Worms. Though warned that it would be unsafe for him to 
go, he sturdily replied, "Though the devils in Worms were 
as thick as the tiles on the roofs, yet I would go ! " When 
called upon to recant, he refused to do so unless it could be 
shown from the Scriptures that he was in error. ' ' Thereon I 
stand," he said, "and cannot do otherwise. God help me. 
Amen." 

On his return from Worms he was captured by a band of 
masked men who confined him in the castle of Wartburg. 
This was an act of his friends, who adopted this device as a 
means of protecting him. He remained in that castle nearly 
a year, which gave him time to i3ush forward his work of 
translating the Scriptures into the German tongue, and to 
arrange his system of theology. Luther's translation of the 
Bible is regarded as the fixing of the standard of German 
literature. In 1525, having previously withdrawn from the 
monastic order, he married Catharine von Bora, an ex-nun. 

The influence of Luther's teachings spread rapidly over the 
neighboring countries of Europe, including Denmark, 
Sweden, Moravia, and Bohemia. But the Protestants were 
weak in neglecting to present a united front against the 
Catholic power. The German reformers did not act in unison 
with the followers of Zwingli in Switzerland, or the Hugue- 
nots of France ; while the Pope, on the other hand, was al- 



THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 113 

empty through his lavish expenditure, and his 
Government was not popular. Eeally, though both 
wished for war, neither was prepared to be the ag- 
gressor; both wanted the vantage of seeming to 
fight in self-defence. 

It was obvious that Charles had made a high bid 
for the friendship of England when he offered him- 
self as the husband of the Princess Mary. Wolsey 
had taken care that Francis was informed of this 
offer, which necessarily led to a long negotiation 
with the imperial Court. Really Charles's mar- 
riage projects were rather complicated ; he was be- 
trothed to Charlotte of France; he had made an 
offer for Mary of England ; but he wished to marry 
Isabella of Portugal for no loftier reason than the 
superior attractions of her dowry. His proposal for 
Mary of England was prompted by nothing save the 

ways able to command the full powers and resom'ces of the 
Church. This is the real cause of the arrest of the progress 
of the Reformation. 

Luther died at Eisleben in the sixty-third year of his age. 
Since his death, the Protestants of Europe have held their 
own, but they have made little progress territorially. An 
indirect but most important result of his influence is the 
moral and spiritual improvement of the Catholic Church 
which, in the period of more than 350 years that have elapsed 
since his time, has never again sunk to a moral level so low 
as it maintained at that time. While other influences were 
at work, much of this beneficent result is undoubtedly due to 
the emphatic protest of Luther and his followers, 
8 



114 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

desire to have Henry as his ally against France ; if he 
could manage by fair promises to induce Henry to 
go to war his purpose would be achieved, and he 
could still go in quest of the Portuguese dower. 
So when Tunstal, the Master of the Eolls, went as 
English envoy to discuss the matter, Charles's Coun- 
cil raised all sorts of difficulties. Let the English 
king join a league with the Pope and the Emperor 
against France; then the Pope would grant his 
dispensation, which was necessary, owing to the 
relationship between Charles and Mary. Tunstal 
was bidden by Wolsey to refuse such conditions. 
England would not move until the marriage had 
been concluded, and would not join in any league 
with the Pope till his dispensation was in Henry's 
hand. The separate alliance of England and the 
Emperor must be put beyond doubt to England's 
satisfaction before anything else could be consid- 
ered. Wolsey commissioned Tunstal to adopt a 
lofty tone. ' ' It would be great folly, ' ' he says, 
'' for this young prince, not being more surely set- 
tled in his dominions, and so ill-provided with treas- 
ure and good councillors, the Pope also being so 
brittle and variable, to be led into war for the 
pleasure of his ministers. ' ' Truly Wolsey thought 
he had taken the measure of those with whom he 



THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 115 

dealt, and spoke with sufficient plainness when oc- 
casion needed. But Charles's chancellor, Gatti- 
nara, a Piedmontese, who was rising into power, 
was as obstinate as Wolsey, and rejected the Eng- 
lish proposals with equal scorn. '^ Your master," 
he said to Tunstal, ''would have the Emperor 
break with France, but would keep himself free; 
he behaves like a man with two horses, one of 
which he rides, and leads the other by the hand." 
It was clear that nothing could be done, and Wol- 
sey with some delight recalled Tunstal from his em- 
bassy. The closer alliance with the Emperor was 
at an end for the present; he had shown again 
that England would only forego her mediating 
position on her own terms. 

At the same time he dealt an equal measure of 
rebuff to France. Before the conference at Guisnes 
Francis had done some work towards rebuilding 
the ruined walls of Ardres * on the French frontier. 
After the conference the work was continued till 
England resented it as an unfriendly act. Francis 
was obliged to give way, and order the building to 
stopped. Neither Francis nor Charles were allowed 

* Ardres is a small village about ten miles south-east of 
Calais. Near it was the Field of the Cloth of Gold. Its pop- 
ulation at present is a little over 2,000. 



116 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

to presume on the complacency of England, nor 
use their alliance with her to further their own pur- 
poses. 

The general aspect of affairs was so dubious that 
it was necessary for England to be prepared for 
any emergency, and first of all Scotland must be 
secured as far as possible. Since the fall of James 
TV. at Flodden Eield, Scotland had been internally 
unquiet. Queen Margaret gave birth to a son a 
few months after her husband's death, and, to se- 
cure her position, took the unwise step of marrying 
the Earl of Angus. The enemies of Angus and 
the national party in Scotland joined together to 
demand that the Kegency should be placed in 
firmer hands, and they smnmoned from France the 
Duke of Albany,^ a son of the second son of James 

* Queen Margaret's second marriage took place August 6, 
1514, or within a year of the battle of Flodden Field where 
her husband, James IV. , was slain. "The Scottish Lords," 
says Froude, "could not tolerate in one of themselves the 
position of husband of the regent, and a second parliament 
immediately pronounced her deposition, and called in as her 
successor the late king's cousin, the Duke of Albany, who, in 
the event of the deaths of the two princes, stood next in 
blood to the crown. Albany, who had lived from his infancy 
on the continent, — French in his character and French in his 
sympathies, — brought with him a revolution inimical in every 
way to English interests. His conduct soon gave rise to the 
greatest alarm. The royal children were taken from the 
custody of their mother, who with her husband was obliged 



THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 117 

III., who bad been born in exile, and was French 
in all the traditions of his education. When Albany 
came to Scotland as Regent, Queen Margaret and 
Angus were so assailed that Margaret had to flee to 
England for refuge, 1515, leaving her son in 



to find refuge for a time in England ; and the Duke of Roth- 
say, the younger of the two, dying immediately after, sus- 
picions of foul play were naturally aroused. The prince was 
openly said to have been murdered ; the remaining brother, 
who remained between Albany and the crown, it was ex- 
pected would soon follow ; and a tragedy would be repeated 
which England as well as Scotland had too lately witnessed 
[i.e. the death of the princes who were murdered in the Tower 
by order of Richard III.] . . . The Queen sent warning [to 
the Scottish nobles through Surrey] that the life of the young 
king was in danger. In tlie beginning of December it was 
expected either that he would be poisoned or that Albany 
would carry him away to France. On the 27th a stormy 
council was held at Stirling, where Albany attempted his 
usual shift in difficulty, and required five months' leave of 
absence to go to Paris, This time the nobles refused to be 
left to bear the consequences of the regent's weakness. If he 
went again his departure should be final ; nor should he 
depart at all unless the French garrisons were withdrawn. 
The duke, ' in marvelous great anger and foam,' agreed to 
remain ; but his cause sank daily and misfortunes thickened 
about him. He was without the means to support the French 
auxiliaries. They were obliged to shift as they could for 
their own security. Some escaped to their own country ; 
others, sent away in unsea worthy vessels, were driven among 
the Western Islands, engaged in pirac3% and were destroyed 
in detail. At length, for the last time, on the 20th May, 
[1524] Albany turned his back upon the country with which 
he had connected himself only to his own and others' misery. 
He sailed away, and came again no more. 



118 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

Albany's care. She stayed in England till the 
middle of 1517, when she was allowed to return to 
Scotland on condition that she took no part in public 
affairs. About the same time Albany returned to 
France, somewhat weary of his Scottish charge. 
By his alliance with Francis Henry contrived tha.t 
Albany should not return to Scotland ; but he could 
not contrive to give his sister Margaret the political 
wisdom which was needed to draw England and 
Scotland nearer together. Margaret quarrelled 
with her husband Angus, and only added another 
element of discord to those which previously ex- 
isted. The safest way for England to keep Scot- 
land helpless was to encourage forays on the 
Border. The Warden of the "Western Marches, 
Lord Dacre of E"a worth, was admirably adapted to 
work with Wolsey for this purpose. Without 
breaking the formal peace which existed between 
the two nations, he developed a savage and syste- 
matic warfare, waged in the shape of Border raids, 
which was purposely meant to devastate the Scot- 
tish frontier, so as to prevent a serious invasion 
from the Scottish side. Still Henry YIII. was most 
desirous to keep Scotland separate from France ; but 
the truce with Scotland expired in ]N"ovember, 1520. 
Wolsey would gladly have turned the truce into a. 



THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 119 

perpetual peace; but Scotland still clung to its 
French alliance, and all that Wolsey could achieve 
was a prolongation of the truce till 1522. He did 
so, however, with the air of one who would have 
preferred war ; and Francis I. was induced to urge 
the Scots to sue for peace, and accept as a favor 
what England was only too glad to grant. 

At the same time an event occurred in England 
which showed in an unmistakable way the deter- 
mination of Henry to go his own way and allow no 
man to question it. In April, 1520, the Duke of 
Buckingham, one of the wealthiest of the English 
nobles, was imprisoned on an accusation of high 
treason. In May he was brought to trial before 
his peers, was found guilty, and was executed. The 
charges against him were trivial if true ; the wit- 
nesses were members of his household who bore 
him a grudge. But the king heard their testimony in 
his Council, and committed the dul^e to the Tower. 
Kone of the nobles of England dared differ from 
their imperious master. If the king thought fit 
that Buckingham should die, they would not run 
the risk of putting any obstacle in the way of the 
royal will. Trials for treason under Henry YIII. 
were mere formal acts of registration of a decision 
already formed. 



120 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

The Duke of Buckingham, no doubt, was a weak 
and foolish man, and may have done and said 
many foolish things. He was in some sense justi- 
fied in regarding himself as the nearest heir to the 
English throne if Henry left no children to succeed 
him. Henry had been married for many years, and 
as yet there was no surviving child save the Prin- 
cess Mary. It was unwise to talk about the suc- 
cession to the Crown after Henry's death; it was 
criminal to disturb the minds of Englishmen who 
had only so lately won the blessings of internal 
peace. If the Duke of Buckingham had really 
done so, he would not be undeserving of punish- 
ment ; but the evidence against him was slight, and 
its source was suspicious. 'No doubt Buckingham 
was incautious, and made himself a mouthpiece of 
the discontent felt by the nobles at the French alli- 
ance and their own exclusion from affairs. No 
doubt he denounced "Wolsey, who sent him a mes- 
sage that he might say what he liked against him- 
self, but warned him to beware what he said against 
the king. It does not seem that Wolsey took 
any active part in the proceedings against the 
Duke, but he did not do anything to save him. 
The matter was the king's matter, and as such it 
was regarded by all. The nobles, who probably 



THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 121 

agreed with Buckingham's opinions, were unani- 
mous in pronouncing his guilt; and the Duke of 
Norfolk, with tears streaming down his cheeks, con- 
demned him to his doom. The mass of the people 
were indifferent to his fate, and were willing that 
the king should be sole judge of the precautions 
necessary for his safety, with which the internal 
peace and outward glory of England was entirely 
identified. Charles and Francis stood aghast at 
Henry's strong measures, and were surprised that 
he could do things in such a high-handed manner 
with impunity. If Henry intended to let the states- 
men of Europe know that he was not to be diverted 
from his course by fear of causing disorders at home 
he thoroughly succeeded. The death of Bucking- 
ham was a warning that those who crossed the 
king's path and hoped to thwart his plans by petu- 
lant opposition were playing a game which would 
only end in their own ruin.* 

* "In 1515, when Giustiniani, the Venetian ambassador 
was at court, the Dukes of Buckingham, of Suffolk, and 
of Norfolk, were also mentioned to him as having each of 
them hopes of the crown. Buckingham, meddling prema- 
turely in the dangerous game, lost his life for it." — Froude. 

"In the spring of 1521, the world was startled by the arrest, 
trial, and execution (11 May) of the Duke of Buckingham for 
treason. As the crime imputed to him, even in the indict- 
ment, was mainly that he listened to prophecies of the king's 



122 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

Free from any fear of opposition at home, Wol- 
sey could now give his attention to his difficult task 
abroad. Charles Y. had been crowned at Aachen, 
and talked of an expedition to Eome to receive 
the imperial crown. Francis I. was preparing for 
a campaign to assert the French claims on Milan. 
Meanwhile he wished to hamper Charles without 
openly breaking the peace. He stirred up a band 
of discontented barons to attack Luxembourg, and 
aided the claimant to the crown of ISTavarre to enter 
his inheritance. War seemed now inevitable ; but 
Wolsey remained true to his principles, and urged 
upon both kings that they should submit their dif- 
ferences to the mediation of England. Charles was 
busied with the revolt of the Spanish towns, and 
was not unwilling to gain time. After a show of 
reluctance he submitted to the English proposals ; 
but Francis, rejoicing in the prospect of success in 
Luxembourg and J^avarre, refused on the ground 
that Charles was not in earnest. Still Francis was 
afraid of incurring England's hostility, and quailed 
before Wolsey's threat that if France refused medi- 
ation, England would be driven to side with the 



death and his own succession to the crown, his fate proved 
the king's excessive jealousy and power. From that day the 
jiobility were completely cowed." — Gairdner. 



THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 123 

Emperor. In June, 1521, he reluctantly assented to 
a conference to be held at Calais, over which Wol- 
sey should preside, and decide between the pleas 
urged by representatives of the two hostile mon- 
archs. 

If Wolsey triumphed at having reached his goal, 
his triumph was of short duration. He might dis- 
play himself as a mediator seeking to establish 
peace, but he knew that peace Avas well-nigh im- 
possible. While the negotiations were in progress 
for the conference which was to resolve differences, 
events were tending to make war inevitable. When 
"Wolsey began to broach his project, Francis was 
desirous of war and Charles was anxious to defer it ; 
but Charles met with some success in obtainino^ 
promises of help from Germany in the Diet of 
Worms, '^ and when that was over, he heard welcome 

* " On the 6th of January, 1521, Charles assembled his first 
diet at Worms, where he presided in person ... In 
order to direct the affairs of the empire during the absence 
of Charles, a council of regency was established ... At the 
same time an aid of 20.000 foot and 4,000 horse was granted, 
to accompany the emperor in his expedition to Rome ; but 
the diet endeavored to prevent him from interfering, as 
Maximilian had done, in the affairs of Italy, by stipulating 
that these troops were only to be employed as an escort, and 
not for the purpose of aggression," — Coxe. 

The most important fact about this diet was the appearance 
before it of Martin I^uther, who was sunmioned to answer 
charges of heresy. See above, p. Ill, note. 



124 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

news wliich reached him gradually from all sides. 
The revolt of the Spanish towns was dying away ; 
the aggressors in Luxembourg had been repulsed ; 
the troops of Spain had won signal successes in 
JSTavarre. His embarrassments were certainly dis- 
appearing on all sides. More than this, Pope Leo 
X., after long wavering, made up his mind to take 
a definite course. 'No doubt he was sorely vexed to 
find that the position which he hankered after was 
occupied by England ; and if he were to step back 
into the politics of Europe, he could not defer a de- 
cision much longer. He had wavered between an 
alliance with France and Yenice on the one side, or 
with the Emperor on the other. The movement of 
Luther in Germany had been one of the questions 
for settlement in the Diet of Worms, and Luther 
had been silenced for a time. Leo awoke in some 
degree to the gravity of the situation, and saw the 
advantage of making common cause with Charles, 
whose help in Germany was needful. Accordingly 
he made a secret treaty with the Emperor for mu- 
tual defence, and was anxious to draw England to 
the same side. The religious question was begin- 
ning to be of importance, and Francis I. was 
regarded as a favorer of heretics, whereas Henry 
YIII. was strictly orthodox, was busy in suppress- 



THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 125 

ing Lutheran opinions at home, and was preparing 
his book which should confute Luther forever.* 

Another circumstance also greatly affected the at- 
titude of Charles, the death of his minister Chidvres, 
who had been his tutor in his youth, and continued 
to exercise great influence over his actions. Charles 
was cold, reserved, and ill-adapted to make friends. 
It was natural that one whom he had trusted from 
his boyhood should sway his policy at the first. 
Chidvres was a Burgundian, whose life had been 
spent in saving Burgundy from French aggression, 
and the continuance of this watchful care was his 
chief object till the last. His first thought was for 
Burgundy, and to protect that he wished for peace 
with France and opposed an adventurous policy. 
On his death in May, 1521, Charles Y. entered on a 
new course of action. He felt himself for the first 



* Luther had published a book entitled The Babylonian 
Captivity. In reply to this Henry VIII. published, in 1521, 
his Defence of the Sacraments, which was translated into the 
German and " filled the whole Christian world with joy and 
admiration." In recognition of this work, the Pope reward- 
ed the English king with the title of Fidel Defensor, Defender 
of the Faith. The initial letters F.D. are stamped on all the 
coins of Great Britain to tliis day, though the sovereigns are 
no longer defenders of the faith in the sense intended by Leo 
X. It may be added tlmt Luther published a rejoinder in 
which he called his opponent a fool and described him as the 
Pharaoh of England. 



126 ' LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

time his own master, and took his responsibilities 
upon himself. He seems to have admitted to him- 
self that the advice of Chievres had not always been 
wise, and he never allowed another minister to gain 
the influence Chievres had possessed. He contented 
himself with officials who might each represent some 
part of his dominions, and whose advice he used in 
turns, but none of whom could claim to direct his 
policy as a whole. 

Chief of these officials was a Savoyard, Mercu- 
rino della Gattinara, whose diplomatic skill was now 
of great service to the Emperor. Gattinara was a 
man devoted to his master's interests, and equal to 
"Wolsey in resoluteness and pertinacity. Hitherto 
Wolsey had had the strongest will amongst the 
statesmen of Europe, and had reaped all the advan- 
tages of his strength. In Gattinara he met with an 
opponent who was in many ways his match. It is 
true that Gattinara had not "Wolsey 's genius, and 
was not capable of Wolsey 's far-reaching schemes ; 
but he had a keen eye to the interests of the mo- 
ment, and could neither be baffled by finesse nor 
overborne by menaces. His was the hand that first 
checked Wolsey' s victorious career. 

So it was that through a combination of causes 
the prospects of peace suddenly darkened just as 



THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 127 

"Wolsey was preparing to stand forward as the 
mediator of Europe. Doubtless he hoped, when 
first he put forward the project of a conference, 
that it might be the means of restoring his original 
design of 1518, a European peace under the guaran- 
tee of England. Since that had broken down he 
had been striving to maintain England's influence 
by separate alliances ; he hoped in the conference 
to use this position in the interests of peace. But 
first of all the alliance with the Emperor must be 
made closer, and the Emperor showed signs of de- 
manding that this closer alliance should be pur- 
chased by a breach with France. If war was in- 
evitable, England had most to gain by an alliance 
with Charles, to whom its friendship could offer 
substantial advantages, as England, in case of war, 
could secure to Charles the means of communicat- 
ing between the Netherlands and SjDain, which 
would be cut off if France were hostile and the 
Channel were barred by English ships. Moreover 
the prospect of a marriage between Charles and the 
Princess Mary was naturally gratifying to Henry ; 
while English industry would suffer from any breach 
of trading relations with the Netherlands, and the 
notion of war with France was still popular with, 
the English, 



128 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

So Wolsey started for Calais at the beginning of 
August with the intention of strengthening Eng- 
land's alliance with the Emperor, that thereby Eng- 
land's influence might be more powerful. Charles 
on the other hand was resolved on war ; he did not 
wish for peace by England's mediation, but he 
wished to draw England definitely into the league 
between himself and the Pope against France. 
"Wolsey knew that much depended on his own 
cleverness, and nerved himself for the greatest cau- 
tion, as Francis was beginning to be suspicious of 
the preparations of Charles, and the attitude of 
affairs was not promising for a pacific mediation. 

This became obvious at the first interview of 
"Wolsey with the imperial envoys, foremost amongst 
whom was Gattinara. They were commissioned 
to treat about the marriage of Charles with the 
Princess Mary, and about a secret undertaking for 
war against France ; but their mstructions contained 
nothing tending to peace. The French envoys 
were more pacific, as war was not popular in France. 

On 7th August the conference was opened under 
Wolsey 's presidency; but Gattinara did nothing 
save dwell upon the grievances of his master against 
France ; he maintained that France had been the ag- 
gressor in breaking the existing treaty ; he had no 



THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 129 

powers to negotiate peace or even a truce, but de- 
manded England's help, which had been promised 
to the party first aggrieved. The French retorted 
in the same strain, but it was clear that they were 
not averse to peace, and were willing to trust to 
Wolsey's mediation. Wolsey saw that he could 
make little out of Gattinara. He intended to visit 
the Emperor, who had come to Bruges for the 
purpose, as soon as he had settled with the impe- 
rial envoys the preliminaries of an alliance ; now he 
saw that the only hope of continuing the conference 
lay in winning from Charles better terms, than the 
stubborn Gattinara would concede. So he begged 
the French envoys to remain in Calais while he vis- 
ited the Emperor and arranged with him personally 
for a truce. As the French were desirous of peace, 
they consented. 

On 16th August Wolsey entered Bruges in royal 
state, with a retinue of 1000 horsemen. Charles 
came to the city gate to meet him and receive him 
almost as an equal. Wolsey did not dismount from 
his horse, but received Charles's embrace seated. 
He was given rooms in Charles's palace, and the 
next day at church Charles sat by Wolsey' s side 
and shared the same kneeling stool with him. Their 
private conferences dealt solely with the accord be- 
9 



130 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

tween England and the Emperor. Wolsey saw that 
it was useless to urge directly the cause of peace, 
and trusted to use for this purpose the advantages 
which his alliance would give. He succeeded, 
however, in considerably modifying the terms which 
had been first proposed. He diminished the amount 
of dowry which Mary was to receive on her mar- 
riage, and put off her voyage to the Emperor till she 
should reach the age of twelve, instead of seven, 
which was first demanded. Similarly he put off 
the period when England should declare war against 
France till the spring of 1523, though he agreed 
that if war was being waged between Francis and 
Charles in ISTovember, England should send some 
help to Charles. Thus he still preserved England's 
freedom of action, and deferred a rupture with 
France. Every one thought that many things 
might happen in the next few months, and that 
England was pledged to little. Further, Wolsey 
guarded the pecuniary interests of Henry by insisting 
that if France ceased to pay its instalments for the 
purchase of Tournai, the Emperor should make 
good the loss. He also stipulated that the treat}^ 
should be kept a profound secret, so that the proceed- 
ings of the conference should still go on. 

Wolsey was impressed by Charles, and gave a 



THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 131 

true description of his character to Henry: '^For 
his age he is very wise and understanding his affairs, 
right cold and temperate in speech, with assured 
manner, couching his words right well and to good 
purpose when he doth speak." We do not know 
what was Charles's private opinion of Wolsey. He 
can scarcely have relished Wolsey 's lofty manner, 
for Wolsey bore himself with all the dignity of a 
representative of His king. Thus, the King of Den- 
mark, Charles's brother-in-law, was in Bruges, and 
sought an interview with Wolsey, who answered 
that it was unbecoming for him to receive in his 
chamber any king to whom he was not commissioned ; 
if the King of Denmark wished to speak with him, 
let him meet him, as though by accident, in the 
garden of the palace. 

When the provisions of the treaty had been 
drafted, Wolsey set out for Calais on 26th August, 
and was honorably escorted out of Bruges by the 
Emperor himself. On his return the business of the 
conference began, and was dragged on through 
three weary months. The imperial envoys natu- 
rally saw nothing to be gained by the conference 
except keeping open the quarrel with France till 
November, when Henry was bound to send help to 
the Emperor if peace were not made. Wolsey re- 



132 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

mained true to his two principles : care for English 
interests, and a desire for peace. He secured pro- 
tection for the fishery of the Channel in case of war, 
and he cautiously strove to lead up both parties to 
see their advantage in making a truce if they could 
not agree upon a peace. It was inevitable that 
these endeavors should bring on Wolsey the suspi- 
cions of both. The French guessed something of the 
secret treaty from the warlike appearance which 
England began to assume, and cried out that they 
were being deceived. The imperial envoys could 
not understand how one who had just signed a 
treaty with their master, could throw obstacles in 
their way and pursue a mediating policy of his own. 
Really both sides were only engaged in gaining 
time, and their attention was more fixed upon 
events in the field than on any serious project of 
agreement. 

When in the middle of September the French 
arms won some successes, Gattinara showed himself 
inclined to negotiate for a truce. The conference, 
which hitherto had been merely illusory, suddenly 
became real, and Wolsey's wisdom in bargaining 
that England should not declare war against France 
till the spring of 1523 became apparent. He could 
urge on Gattinara that it would be wise to agree to 



THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 133 

a truce till that period was reached ; then all would 
be straightforward. So "Wolsey adjourned the 
public sittings of the conference, and negotiated 
privately with the two parties. The French saw in 
a year's truce only a means of allowing the Em- 
peror to prepare for war, and demanded a sub- 
stantial truce for ten years. Wolsey used all his 
skill to bring about an agreement, and induced 
Gattinara to accept a truce for eighteen months, 
and the French to reduce their demands to four 
years. But Charles raised a new difficulty, and 
clauned that all conquests made in the w;ar should 
be given up. The only conquest was Fontarabia, 
on the border of l^avarre, which was still occupied 
by the French. Francis not unnaturally declined 
to part with it solely to obtain a brief truce, as 
Charles had no equivalent to restore. Wolsey used 
every argument to induce the Emperor to withdraw 
his claim ; but he was obstinate, and the conference 
came to an end. It is true that Wolsey tried to 
keep up appearances by concluding a truce for 
a month, that the Emperor might go to Spain 
and consult his subjects about the surrender of 
Fontarabia. 

So Wolsey departed from Calais on 25th Novem- 
ber, disappointed and worn out. As he wrote him- 



134 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

self, ' ' I have been so sore tempested in mind by 
the untowardness of the chancellors and orators on 
every side, putting so many difficulties and obstacles 
to condescend to any reasonable conditions of truce 
and abstinence of war, that night nor day I could 
have no quietness nor rest." There is no doubt 
that Wolsey wrote what he felt. He had labored 
hard for peace, and had failed. If he hoped that 
the labors of the conference might still be continued 
by his diplomacy in England, that hope was de- 
stroyed before he reached London. On 1st Decem- 
ber the imperial troops captured Tournai, which they 
had been for some time besieging, and news came 
from Italy that Milan also had fallen before the 
forces of the Emperor and the Pope. Charles had 
seemed to Wolsey unreasonable in his obstinacy. 
He had refused a truce which he had every motive 
of prudence for welcoming ; and now events proved 
that he was justified. I^Tot only had Francis been 
foiled in his attempts to embarrass his rival, but suc- 
cess had followed the first steps which Charles had 
taken to retaliate. The time for diplomacy was 
past, and the quarrel must be decided by the 
sword. 

So Wolsey saw his great designs overthrown. 
He was a peace minister because he knew that Eng- 



THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 135 

land had nothing to gain from war. He had 
striven to keep the peace of Europe by means of 
England's mediation, and his efforts had been so far 
successful as to give England the first place in the 
councils of Europe. But Wolsey hoped more from 
diplomacy than diplomacy could do. Advice and 
influence can do something to check the outbreak 
of war when war is not very seriously designed ; but 
in proportion as great interests are concerned, at- 
tempts at mediation are useless unless they are backed 
by force. England was not prepared for war, and 
had no troops by whom she could pretend to enforce 
her counsels. When the two rival powers began 
to be in earnest, they admitted England's mediation 
only as a means of involving her in their quarrel. 
"Wolse^^ was only the first of a long series of English 
ministers who have met with the same disappoint- 
ment from the same reason. England in Wolsey's 
days had the same sort of interest in the affairs of 
the Continent as she has had ever since. Wolse}^ 
first taught her to develop that interest by pacific 
counsels, and so long as that has been possible, Eng- 
land has been powerful. But when a crisis comes 
England has ever been slow to recognize its inevi- 
tableness ; and her habit of hoping against hope for 
peace has placed her in an undignified attitude for 



136 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

a time, has drawn upon her reproaches for duplicity, 
and has involved her in war against her will. 

This was now the net result of Wolsey's endeavors, 
a result which he clearly perceived. His efforts of 
mediation at Calais had been entirely his own, and 
he could confide to no one his regret and his disap- 
pointment. Henry was resolved on war when Wol- 
sey first set forth, and if Wolsey had succeeded in 
making a truce, the credit would have been entirely 
his own. He allowed Henry to think that the con- 
ference at Calais was merely a pretext to gain time for 
military preparations ; if a truce had been made he 
would have put it down to the force of circumstan- 
ces ; as his efforts for a truce had failed, he could take 
credit that he had done all in his power to establish the 
king's reputation throughout Christendom, and had 
fixed the blame on those who would not follow his 
advice. It is a mark of "Wolsey's conspicuous skill 
that he never forgot his actual position, and never was 
so entirely absorbed in his own plans as not to leave 
himself a ready means for retreat. His schemes 
had failed ; but he could still take credit for having 
furthered other ends which were contrary to his own. 
Henry was well contented with the results of Wol- 
sey's mission, and showed his satisfaction in the cus- 
tomary way of increasing Wolsey's revenues at the 



THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 13^ 

expense of the Church. The death was announced 
of the Abbot of St. Albans, and the king, in answer 
to Wolsey's request, ordered the monks to take 
Wolsey for their abbot, saying, ^ ' My lord cardinal 
has sustained many charges in this his voyage, and 
hath expended £10,000." So kings were served, 
and so they recompensed their servants. 



CHAPTEE YI. 

THE IMPEEIAIi ALLIANCE. 

1521-1523. 

The failure of Wolsey's plans was due to the 
diplomacy of Gattinara and to the obstinacy of 
Charles Y. , who showed at the end of the negotia- 
tions at Calais an unexpected readiness to appreciate 
his obligations towards his dominions as a whole, by 
refusing to abandon Fontarabia lest thereby he 
should irritate his Spanish subjects. It was this 
capacity for large consideration that gave Charles 
Y. his power in the future ; his motives were hard 
to discover, but they always rested on a view of his 
entire obligations, and were dictated by reasons 
known only to himself. Even Wolsey did not un- 
derstand the Emperor's motives, which seemed to 
him entirely foolish. He allowed himself to take 
up a haughty position, which deeply offended 
Charles, who exclaimed angrily, ' ' This cardinal 
wiU do everything his oAvn way, and treats me as 

138 



THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. 139 

though I were a prisoner." Charles treasured up 
his resentment, of which "Wolsey was entirely un- 
conscious, and was determined not to allow so mas- 
terful a spirit to become more powerful. 

He soon had an opportunity of acting on this 
determination, as the unexpected death of Pope Leo 
X. on 1st December naturally awakened hopes in 
Wolsey' s breast. It was impossible that the fore- 
most statesman in Europe should not have had the 
legitimate aspiration of reaching the highest office 
to which he could attain. But though Wolsey was 
ready when the opportunity came to press his own 
claims with vigor, it cannot be said with fairness 
that his previous policy had been in anyway di- 
rected to that end, or that he had swerved in the 
least from his own path to further his chances for 
the papal office. Indeed he had no reason for so 
doing, as Leo was only forty-six years old when he 
died, and his death was entirely unforeseen. More- 
over, we know that when the Spanish envoys 
offered Wolsey the Emperor's help towards the 
Papacy in 1520, Wolsey refused the offer; since 
then Charles at Bruges had repeated the offer with- 
out being asked. Now that a vacancy had arisen, 
it was natural for Wolsey to attach some weight to 
this promise, and Henry expressed himself warmly 



140 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

in favor of Wolsey's election, and urged his im- 
perial ally to work by all means for that end. He 
sent to Rome his favorite secretary Pace to further 
it by pressing representations to the cardinals. 

lb does not seem that Wolsey was very sanguine 
in his expectations of being elected. Leo X. had 
died at a moment of great importance for Charles 
Y. ; in fact his death had been brought about by 
the imprudence which he showed in manifesting his 
delight at the success of the imperial arms against 
Milan, and his prospect of the overthrow of France. 
It was necessary for Charles that a Pope should be 
elected who would hold to Leo's policy, and would 
continue the alliance with England. The man who 
held in his hand the threads of Leo X.'s numerous 
intrigues was his cousin. Cardinal Giulio de' Medici, 
and Wolsey admitted the advantages to be gained 
by his election. Wolsey at once declared that he 
submitted his candidature to the decision of Henry 
YIII. and the Emperor ; if they thought that he 
was the best person to promote their interests he 
would not shrink from the labor; but he agreed 
that if his candidature were not likely to be accept- 
able to the cardinals, the two monarchs should unite 
in favor of Cardinal Medici. Charles's ambassador 
wrote him that it would be well to act carefully, as 



THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. I4.I 

Wolsey was watching to see how much faith he 
could put in the Emperor's protestations of good- 
will. 

So Charles was prepared, and acted with ambigu- 
ous caution. He put off communicating with 
Henry as long as he could ; he regretted that he 
was in the ^Netherlands instead of Germany, whence 
he could have made his influence felt in Rome ; he 
secretly ordered his ambassador in Eome to press 
for the election of Cardinal Medici, but gave him no 
definite instructions about any one else ; finally he 
wrote a warm letter in favor of Wolsey, which he 
either never sent at all, or sent too late to be of any 
use, but which served as an enclosure to satisfy 
Henry YIII. "Wolsey was not deceived by this, 
and knew how papal elections might be influenced. 
He told the Spanish ambassador that, if his master 
were in earnest, he should order his troops to ad- 
vance against Rome, and should command the cardi- 
nals to elect his nominee; he offered to provide 
100,000 "'^ ducats to cover the expenses of such ac- 
tion. When it came to the point Wolsey was a 
very practical politician, and was under no illusions 
about the fair pretences of free choice which sur- 
rounded a papal election. He treated it as a matter 

* §228,000. 



142 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

to be settled by pressure from outside, according to 
the will of the strongest. There is something re- 
voltingly cynical in this proposal. No doubt many 
men thought like Wolsey, but no one else would 
have had the boldness to speak out. Wolsey 's out- 
spokenness was of no avail at the time, but it bore 
fruits afterwards. He taught Henry YIH. to con- 
ceive the possibility of a short way of dealing with 
refractory popes. He confirmed his willing pupil 
in the belief that all things may be achieved by the 
resolute will of one who rises above prejudice and 
faces the world as it is. When he fell he must have 
recognized that it was himself who trained the arm 
which smote him. 

In spite of Wolsey 's advice Charles did not allow 
Spanish influence to be unduly felt in the proceed- 
ings of the conclave. Barely had the cardinals 
been more undecided, and when they went into the 
conclave on 27th December, it was said that every 
one of them was a candidate for the Papacy. The 
first point was to exclude Cardinal Medici, and it 
could be plausibly urged that it was dangerous to 
elect two successive popes from the same family. 
Medici's opponents succeeded in making his election 
impossible, but could not agree upon a candidate of 
their own; while Medici tried to bring about tl^e 




The meeting of Hc,„,y VIII. aud Francis I. on Tlie Field i)f the Cloth of Gold. 

Page 107. Life of Thomas Wolsey. 



THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. 14g 

election of some one who would be favorable to the 
Emperor. At last in weariness the cardinals turned 
their thoughts to some one who was not present. 
Wolsey was proposed, and received seven votes; 
but Medici was waiting his time, and put forward 
Cardinal Adrian of Utrecht, who had been Charles's 
tutor, and wa* then governing Spain in his master's 
name. Both parties agreed on him,* chiefly be- 

* " No man could be more earnest than was Adrian VI. in 
his desire to ameliorate the grievous condition into which 
Christendom had fallen at his accession . . . But to reform 
the world is not so light a task ; the good intentions of an in- 
dividual, however high his station, can do but little towards 
such a consummation. . . . The Pope could make no step to- 
wards reform without seeing himself assailed by a thousand 
difficulties. . . . Adrian was in Rome a stranger by birth, 
nation, and the habits of his life, to the element in which he 
was called on to act ; this he could not master because it was 
not familiar to him he did not comprehend the concealed im- 
pulses of its existence. He had been welcomed joyfully, for 
the people told each other that he had some five thousand 
vacant benefices to bestow, and all were willing to hope for 
a share. But never did a Pope show himself more reserved 
in this particular. Adrian would insist on knowing to wliom 
it was that he gave appointments and intrusted with offices. 
He proceeded with scrupulous conscientiousness, and disap- 
pointed innumerable expectations. By the first decree of his 
pontificate he abolished the reversionary rights formerly an- 
nexed to ecclesiastical dignities ; even those which had 
already been conceded, he revoked. The publication of this 
edict in Rome could not fail to bring a crowd of enemies 
against him. Up to his time a certain freedom of speech and 
of writing had been suffered to prevail in the Roman court : 
this he would no longer tolerate. The exhausted state of the 



144: LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

cause he was personally unknown to any of the 
cardinals, had given no offence, was well advanced 
in years, and was reckoned to be of a quiet dis- 
position, so that every one had hopes of guiding 
his counsels. It was clear that the imperialists 
were strongest in the conclave, and of all the im- 
perialist candidates Adrian was the least offensive 
to the French. One thing is quite clear, that 
Charles Y. had not the least intention of helping 
"Wolsey. 

Wolsey probably knew this well enough, and was 
not disappointed. He bore the Emperor no ill-will 
for his lukewarmness ; indeed he had no ground 
for expecting anything else. Wolsey' s aim was 
not the same as that of Charles, and Charles had 
had sufficient opportunity to discover the difference 
between them. Probably "Wolsey saw that the alli- 

papal exchequer, and the numerous demands on it, obliged 
him to impose new taxes. This was considered intolerable 
on the part of one who expended so sparingly. Whatever he 
did was unpopular and disapproved. He felt this deeply, 
and it reacted on his character ... It becomes obvious that 
not to Adrian personally, must it be solely attributed, if his 
times were so unproductive of results. The papacy was en- 
compassed by a host of conflicting claimants — urgent and 
overwhelming difficulties that would have furnished infinite 
occupation, even to a man more familiar with the medium of 
action, better versed in men, and more fertile in expedients, 
than Adrian VI."— Von Ranke. 



THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. 145 

ance between England and the Emperor would not 
be of long duration, as there was no real identity 
of interests. Henry YIII. was dazzled for a mo- 
ment with the prospect of asserting the English 
claims on France ; he was glad to find himself at 
one with his queen, who was overjoyed at the pros- 
pect of a family alliance with her own beloved 
land of Spain. The English nobles rejoiced at an 
opportunity to display their prowess, and hoped in 
time of war to recover the influence and position of 
which they had been deprived by an upstart priest. 
The sentiment of hostility to France was still strong 
amongst the English people, and the allurements of 
a spirited foreign policy were many. But as a mat- 
ter of fact England was ill prepared for war ; and 
though the people might throw up their caps at first, 
they would not long consent to pay for a war which 
brought them no profits. And the profits were not 
likely to be great, for Charles had no wish to see 
England's importance increased. He desired only 
English help to achieve his own purposes, and was 
no more trustworthy as an ally than had been his 
grandfather Ferdinand. 

However, war had been agreed upon, and all 
that Wolsey could do was to try and put off its dec- 
laration until he had secured sufficient assurance 

lO 



146 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

that English money was not to be spent to no pur- 
pose. Charles Y., who was in sore straits for 
money, asked for a loan from England, to which 
Wolsey answered that England could not declare 
war till the loan was repaid. He insisted that no 
declaration of war should be made till the Emperor 
had fulfilled his promise to pay a visit to England, 
a promise which Charles's want of money rendered 
him unable for some time to keep. 

But however much Wolsey might try to put off 
the declaration of war, it was inevitable. Francis 
could not be expected, for all Wolsey 's fine promises, 
to continue his payments for Tournai to so doubtful 
an ally as Henry, nor could he resist from crippling 
England as far as he could. The Duke of Albany 
went back to Scotland; and in the beginning of 
May Francis ordered the seizure of goods lying at 
Bordeaux for shipment to England. This led to re- 
taliation on the part of England, and war was de- 
clared against France on 28th May, 1522. 

This coincided with the visit of Charles Y. to 
London, where he was magnificently entertained for 
a month, while the treaty of alliance was being 
finally brought into shape by Wolsey and Gattinara. 
Wolsey contented himself with providing that the 
alliance did not go further than had been agreed at 



THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. I47 

Bruges, and that England's interests were secured 
by an undertaking from Charles that he would pay 
the loss which Henry YIII. sustained by the with- 
drawal of the French instalments for Tournai. 
When the treaty was signed it Avas Wolsey who, as 
papal legate, submitted both princes to ecclesiastical 
censures in case of a breach of its provisions. More- 
over, Charles granted Wolsey a pension of 9000 
crowns * in compensation for his loss from Tournai, 
and renewed his empty promise of raising him to the 
Papacy. 

It was one thing to declare war and .another to 
carry it on with good effect. England, in spite of 
all the delays which Wolsey had contrived to inter- 
pose, was still unprepared. It was late in the 
autumn before forces could be put in the field, and 
the troops of Charles Y. were too few for a joint 
undertaking of any importance. The allies content- 
ed themselves with invading Picardy, where they 
committed useless atrocities, burning houses, devasta- 
ting the country, and working all the mischief that 
they could. They did not advance into the center 
of France, and no army met them in the field ; in 
the middle of October they retired ingloriously. It 
is hard to discover the purpose of such an expedi- 

* $108,900. 



148 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

tion. The damage done was not enough to weaken 
France materially, and such a display of barbarity 
was ill suited to win the French people to favor 
Henry YIII.'s claim to be their rightful lord. If 
Francis I. had been unpopular before, he was now 
raised to the position of a national leader Avhose help 
was necessary for the protection of his subjects. 

The futile result of this expedition caused mutual 
recriminations between the new allies. The imper- 
ialists complained that the English had come too 
late ; the English answered that they had not been 
properly supported. There were no signs of mutual 
confidence; and the two ministers, Wolsey and 
Gattinara, were avowed enemies, and did not con- 
ceal their hostility. The alliance with the Emperor 
did not show signs of prospering from the begin- 
ning. 

The proceedings of the Earl of Surrey and the 
direction of the campaign were not Wolsey's con- 
cern. He was employed nearer home, in keeping 
a watchful eye on Scotland, which threatened to be 
a hindrance to Henry YIII.'s great undertakings 
abroad. The return of the Duke of Albany in De- 
cember, 1621, was a direct threat of war. Albany 
was nominally regent, but had found his office 
troublesome, and had preferred to spend the last 



THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. I49 

five years in the gaieties of the French Court rather 
than among the rugged nobles of Scotland. They 
were years when France was at peace with England 
and had little interest in Scottish affairs ; so Queen 
Margaret might quarrel with her husband at leisure, 
while the Scottish lords distributed themselves be- 
tween the two parties as suited them best. But 
when war between France and England was ap- 
proaching, the Duke of Albany was sent back by 
Francis I. to his post as agent for France in Scot- 
tish affairs. Queen Margaret welcomed him with 
joy, hoping that he would further her plan of gain- 
ing a divorce from the Earl of Angus. Before this 
union of forces the English party in Scotland was 
powerless. It was in vain that Henry YIII. tried 
by menaces to influence either his sister or the Scot- 
tish lords. As soon as the English forces sailed for 
France Albany prepared to invade England. 

It was lucky for Henry YIII. that he was well 
served on the Borders by Lord Dacre of ]^a worth, 
who managed to show the Scots the measure of 
Albany's incapacity. Dacre began negotiations 
with Albany, to save tune; and when, in Sep- 
tember, the Scottish forces passed the Border, 
Albany was willing to make a truce. As a matter 
of fact, England was totally unprepared to repel an 



150 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

invasion, and Albany might have dictated his own 
terms. But Daore, in Carlisle, which he could not 
defend, maintained his courage, and showed no signs 
of fear. He managed to blind Albany to the real 
state of affairs, and kept him from approaching to 
the crumbling walls of Carlisle. He advanced to 
the Debatable Land to meet him, and '' with a high 
voice" demanded the reason of his coming; and 
the parley thus begun ended in the conclusion of a 
month's truce. Wolsey was overjoyed at this re- 
sult, but yet found it necessary to intercede with the 
king for Dacre's pardon, as he had no authority to 
make terms with the enemy; and Dacre was not 
only forgiven, but thanked. This futile end to an 
expedition for which 80,000 soldiers had been raised 
ruined Albany's influence, and he again retired to 
France at the end of October. 

Wolsey at once saw the risk which England had 
run. A successful invasion on the part of the Scots 
would have been a severe blow to England's mili- 
tary reputation ; and Wolsey determined to be se- 
cure on the Scottish side for the future. The Earl 
of Surrey, on his return from his expedition in 
France, was put in charge of the defences of the 
Border, and everything was done to humor Queen 
Margaret, and convince her that she had more to 



THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. 151 

gain from the favor of her brother than from the 
help of the Duke of Albany. Moreover, Wolsey, 
already convinced of the uselessness of the war 
against France, was still ready to gain from it all 
that he could, and strove to use the threat of danger 
from Scotland as a means of withdrawing from war 
and gaining a signal triumph. Francis I. , unable 
to defend himself, tried to separate his enemies, 
and turned to Charles Y. with offers of a truce. 
When this was refused, he repeated his proposals to 
England, and Wolsey saw his opportunity. He 
represented to Charles that so long as England was 
menaced by Scotland she could send little effective 
help abroad ; if Scotland were crushed she would be 
free again. He suggested that the Emperor had 
little to win by military enterprises undertaken with 
such slight preparation as the last campaign ; would 
he not make truce for a year, not comprehending 
the realm of Scotland ? 

The suggestion was almost too palpable. Gatti- 
nara answered that Henry wished to use his forces 
for his private advantage, and neglected the com- 
mon interest of the alliance. Again bitter com- 
plaints were made of Wolsey' s lukewarmness. 
Again the two allies jealously watched each other 
lest either should gain an advantage by making a 



152 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

separate alliance with France. And while they 
were thus engaged the common enemy of Christen- 
dom was advancing, and Rhodes fell before the 
Turkish arms. It was in vain that Adrian YI. 
lamented and wept ; in vain he implored for suc- 
cors. Fair promises alone were given him. Europe 
was too much intent on the duel between Francis 
and Charles to think seriously of anything else. 
The entreaties of the Pope were only regarded by 
all parties as a good means of enabling them to 
throw a decent veil over any measure which their 
own interests might prompt. They might declare 
that it was taken for the sake of the holy war ; 
they might claim that they had acted from a desire 
to fulfil the Pope's behest. 

So things stood in the beginning of 1523, when 
an unexpected event revived the military spirit of 
Henry YIII., and brought the two half-hearted 
allies once more closely together, by the prospect 
which it afforded of striking a deadly blow at 
France. The chief of the nobles of France, the 
sole survivor of the great feudatories, the Constable 
of Bourbon, was most unwisely affronted by Francis 
I. , at a time when he needed to rally all his sub- 
jects round him. Not only was Bourbon affronted, 
but also a lawsuit was instituted against him, which 



THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. l5g 

threatened to deprive him of the greater part of his 
possessions. Bourbon, who could bring into the 
field 6000 men, did not find his patriotism strong- 
enough to endure this wrong. He opened up se- 
cret negotiations with Charles, who disclosed the 
matter to Henry. Henry's ambition was at once 
fired. He saw Francis I., hopelessly weakened b}^ 
a defection of the chief nobles, incapable of with- 
standing an attack upon the interior of his land, so 
that the English troops might conquer the old prov- 
inces which England still claimed, and victory 
might place upon his head the crown of France. 

Wolsey was not misled by this fantastic prospect, 
but as a campaign was imminent, took all the pre- 
cautions he could that it should be as little costly as 
possible to England, and that Charles should bear 
his full share of the expense. He demanded, more- 
over, that Bourbon should acknowledge Henry 
YIII. as the rightful King of France — a demand 
which was by no means acceptable to Charles. He 
sent an envoy of his own to confer with Bourbon, 
but his envoy was delayed on the way, so that the 
agreement was framed in the imperial interests 
alone, and the demands of Henry were little heeded. 
The agreement was that Bourbon should receive 
the hand of one of the Emperor's sisters, and should 



154 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

receive a subsidy of 200,000 crowns* to be paid 
equally by Henry and Charles ; the question of the 
recognition of Henry as rightful King of France 
was to be left to the decision of the Emperor. 

The plan of the campaign was quickly settled. 
Charles, with 20,000 men, was to advance into 
Guienne; Henry, with 15,000 English, supported 
by 6000 J^etherlanders, was to advance through 
Picardy ; 10,000 Germans were to advance through 
Burgundy; and Bourbon was to head a body of 
dissatisfied nobles of France. It was an excellent 
plan on paper ; and, indeed, the position of France 
seemed hopeless enough. Francis I. had squan- 
dered his people's money, and was exceedingly un- 
popular; Wolsey's diplomacy had helped to win 
over the Swiss to the imperial alliance ; and the in- 
defatigable secretary Pace had been sent to Venice 
to detach the republic from its connection with 
France. It was believed that Wolsey was jealous 
of Pace's influence with Henry YIIL, and con- 
trived to keep him employed on embassies which 
removed him from the Court. At all events, he 
certainly kept him busily employed till his health 
gave way under the excessive pressm^e. To lend 
greater weight to Pace's arguments, "Wolsey de- 

*$ 242,000. 



THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. I55 

scended to an act of overbearing insolence. Some 
Venetian galleys trading with Flanders put in at 
Plymouth during a storm ; they were laid under an 
embargo, and were detained on many flimsy pretexts. 
It was in vain that the Venetian ambassador re- 
monstrated ; Wolsey always had a plausible answer. 
Probably he wished to show Venice that its trading 
interests required the friendship of England. At 
all events the galleys were not released till Venice 
was on the point of joining the imperial alliance. 
Even then Wolsey had the meanness to carry off a 
couple of guns from each vessel, and Venice had to 
make a present of them to the English king with 
as much grace as the circumstances allowed. This 
little incident certainly shows Wolsey 's conduct at 
its Avorst, and confirms the impression of contem- 
poraries, that he had to some degree the insolence 
of an upstart, and sometimes overrode the weak in 
a way to leave behind a bitter feeling of resent- 
ment. 

However, Venice joined the Emperor, and Pope 
Adrian VL, who had pursued hitherto a policy of 
pacification, was at last overborne by the pressure 
of England and the Emperor, so that he entered 
into a defensive league against France. Thus 
France was entirely isolated. Distrusted at home 



156 LIFE OF THOMAS WOI.SEY. 

and unbefriended abroad, she seemed to be a prey 
to her enemies; and Henry's hopes rose so high 
that he gleefully looked forward to being recognized 
as "governor of France," and that "they should 
by this means make a way for him as King Eich- 
ard did for his father." Wiser men shook their 
heads at the king's infatuation. " I pray God," 
wrote More to Wolsey, "if it be good for his Grace 
and for this realm that then it may prove so ; and 
else in the stead thereof I pray God send his grace 
an honorable and profitable peace. "^ 

* Sir Thomas More (1480?— 1535) was one of the most 
illustrious Englishmen of his times, eminent as a man of 
letters, a statesman, and a wit. In the university of Oxford, 
where he was educated, he was one of the first Englishmen 
to study the Greek language, and he had also the good for- 
tune to form there a lasting friendship with Erasmus. After 
leaving Oxford he studied law, but at this time he was 
"seized with a violent access of devotional rapture," and, 
resolving to become a monk, he spent several years as a lay 
brother in a convent in London. While in the convent he 
pursued vigorously the study of the classics, the French 
language, and, for recreation, music. In the practice of the 
law he rose rapidly to distinction. His first notable act of 
political leadership was in parliament when he led the opposi- 
tion against the demand of Henry VII. for an extravagant 
subsidy upon the occasion of the marriage of the king's 
daughter. The monarch, enraged at being " thwarted by a 
beardless boy," sought vengeance ; and this he found in 
maliciously prosecuting More's father, imprisoning him in the 
tower, and fining him heavily. More was about to seek 
safety in flight in foreign parts, when the death of his royal 
enemy removed his anxiety. 



THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. 157 

The spirit that breathes through this prayer is not 
a martial spirit, and no doubt More's feelings rep- 
resented those of Wolsey, who, though carried 

Upon the accession of Henry VIII., More's talents were 
brought into the royal service. He commanded the highest 
confidence both of the king and of Cardinal Wolsey. He 
was frequently sent on embassies, and was appointed to 
various high offices in rapid succession. About the year 1516 
he wrote his most famous work, Utopia, meaning " Nowhere" 
modeled somewhat after Plato's Republic. In this he de- 
scribes an imaginary island in the sea, where the ideal laws 
are a model for England. 

Upon the fall of Wolsey, More was appointed lord chan- 
cellor. Though he was hostile to the teachings of Luther, 
and even wrote a treatise attacking the great reformer, his 
administration of the government was just and he was in- 
dulgent towards the Protestants. Erasmus declared that no 
Protestant was put to death for "these pestilent dogmas" 
while More was lord chancellor. Certain it is that he was 
not responsible for such persecution as then prevailed. 

In the year 1532, Sir Thomas resigned the great seal be- 
cause he could not conscientiously sanction Henry's divorce 
from Katharine. Henry was loath to give him up, and sent 
him a special invitation to attend the coronation of Anne 
Boleyn, and with it the gift of £20 to purchase clothes for the 
occasion. More, refusing to attend the ceremony, was 
marked out for the royal vengeance. He refused to accept 
the act of supremacy, which parliament passed in 1534, 
making Henry the head of the church. Nor would he con- 
sent to the act of succession which excluded the daughter of 
Katharine from the throne in favor of the issue of Anne 
Boleyn. This was with him a matter of conscience. He 
was arrested upon the charge of constructive high treason 
and imprisoned in the tower for more than a year. At his 
trial he would have been acquitted had it not been for the 
perjury of one Rich, solicitor general, who quitted the bar 
and offered himself as witness for the crown, and swore that 



158 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

away by the king's military zeal, had little hopes of 
any great success, and such hopes as he had were 
rapidly destroyed. The campaign did not begin till 
the end of September; the contingent from the 
ISTetherlands was late in appearing and was ill sup- 
plied with food. Till the last moment Wolsey 
urged, as the first object of the campaign, the siege 
of Boulogne, which, if successful, would have given 
England a second stronghold on the French coast ; 
but Wolsey was overruled, and an expedition into 
the interior of France was preferred. It was a rep- 
etition of the raid made in the last year, and was 
equally futile. The army advanced to Montdidier, 



in private conversation he had heard Sir Thomas say that 
parliament could not make the king supreme head of the 
church. He was thereupon condemned to be beheaded. His 
wit could not be suppressed even at the grewsome act of his 
execution. "The scaffold," says Froude, "had been awk- 
wardly erected, and shook as he placed his foot upon the 
ladder. ' See me safe up,' he said to Kingston ; ' for my 
coming down I can shift for myself.' . . . The fatal blow was 
about to fall when he signed for a moment's delay, while he 
moved aside his beard. ' Pity that should be cut,' he mur- 
mured ; ' that has not committed treason.' With which 
strange words, — the strangest perhaps ever uttered at such a 
time, — the lips most famous through Europe for eloquence 
and wisdom closed for ever." 

Of More's History of Eichard III., written about 1513, 
Hallam says: " It appears to me the first example of good 
English language, pure and perspicuous, well chosen, with- 
out vulgarisms or pedantry." 



THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. I59 

and expected tidings of its confederate ; but nothing 
was to be heard of Bourbon ; his lanzknechts began 
to devastate France and then disbanded. The 
army of Charles Y. contented itself with taking 
Fontarabia, and did not co-operate with the Eng- 
lish forces. After the capture of Montdidier the 
troops, who were attacked by sickness, and had 
difficulty in finding provisions, withdrew to the 
coast ; and the Duke of Suffolk brought back his 
costly army without having obtained anything of 
service to England. This expedition, which was to 
do so much, was a total failure — there was positively 
nothing to be shown in return for all the money 
spent. 

Again the wisdom of Wolsey's policy was fully 
justified. He was right in thinking that England 
had neither troops nor generals who were sufficient 
for an expedition on the Continent, where there 
was nothing tangible to be gained. So long as 
England was a neutral and mediating power she 
could pursue her own interests ; but her threats were 
more efficacious than her performances. She could 
not conquer unaided, and her allies had no intention 
of allowing her to win more than empty glory. 
Even this had been denied in the last campaigns. 
England had incurred debts which her people could, 



160 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

ill afford to pay, and had only lowered her reputa- 
tion by a display of military incompetence. More- 
over, her expedition against France involved her in 
the usual difficulties on the side of Scotland. Again 
there was a devastating war along the Border; 
again the Duke of Albany was sent from France and 
raised an army for the invasion of England. But 
this time Wolsey had taken his precautions, and the 
Earl of Surrey was ready to march against him. 
When in ISTovember Albany crossed the Tweed and 
besieged the Castle of Wark, Surrey took the field, 
and again Albany showed his incapacity as a leader. 
He retired before Surrey's advance, and wished to 
retire to France, but was prevented by the Scottish 
lords. Again the Border raids went on with their 
merciless slaughter and plunder, amidst which was 
developed the sternness and severity which still 
mark the character of the northern folk. 

Still, though the Scots might be defeated in the 
field, their defeat and suffering only served to 
strengthen the spirit of national independence. The 
subjugation of Scotland to England was hindered, 
not helped, by the alliance with the Emperor, which 
only drew Scotland nearer to France, and kept alive 
the old feeling of hostility. It was hard to see 
what England had to gain from the imperial alliance^ 



THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. 161 

and events soon proved that Charles Y. pursued his 
own interests without much thought of the wishes 
of Henry YIII. 

On 14:th September died Pope Adrian YI., a 
weary and disappointed man. Again there was a 
prospect of Wolsey's election to the papacy; again 
it might be seen how much Charles Y. would do for 
his English ally. Wolsey had little hope of his 
good offices, and was his own negotiator in the mat- 
ter. He was not sanguine about his prospects of 
success, as he knew that Cardinal Medici was pow- 
erful in Rome ; and the disasters of the pontificate 
of Adrian YI. led the cardinals to wish for a return 
to the old policy of Leo X. , of which Medici held 
the threads. So two letters were sent to the Eng- 
lish representatives in Eome, one in behalf of "Wol- 
sey, the other in behalf of Medici. If things were 
going for Medici, Wolsey was not to be pressed ; 
only in case of a disagreement was Wolsey to be 
put forward, and then no effort was to be spared ; 
money was to be of no object, as Henry would 
make good any promises made on his behalf to se- 
cure Wolsey' s election. 

The conclave was protracted; it sat from 1st 
October to ITth November, and there was ample 
opportunity for Charles to have made his influence 



162 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

felt in Wolsey's behalf. He professed to Henry 
that he was doing so. He wrote a letter recom- 
mending Wolsey to his envoy in Eome, and then 
gave orders that the courier who carried the letter 
should be detained on the way. Eeally his influ- 
ence was being used for Medici, and though a strong 
party in the conclave opposed Medici's election, it 
does not appear that Wolsey was ever put forward 
as a competitor. The cardinals would hear nothing 
of a foreigner, and the stubbornness of Medici's 
party was at length rewarded by his election. 
There is no trace that Wolsey was keenly disap- 
pointed at this result. In announcing it to Henry 
YIII., he wrote, '' For my part, as I take God to 
record, I am more joyous thereof than if it had for- 
tuned upon my person, knowing his excellent quali- 
ties most meet for the same, and how great and sure 
a friend your Grrace and the Emperor be like to have 
of him, and I so good a father. ' ' 

Few popes came to their office amid greater ex- 
pectations, and few more entirely disappointed them 
than did Gruilio de' Medici. Clement YII. , whose 
election Charles, Henry, and "Wolsey united in 
greeting with joy, suffered in a brief space entire 
humiliation at the hands of Charles, caused the 
downfall of Wolsey, and drove Henry to sever the 



THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. 163 

bond between the English Church and the Holy 
See. It is impossible not to think how different 
would have been the course of events if Wolsey had 
presided over the destinies of the Church. 



CHAPTEK YII. 

RENEWAL OF PEACE. 

1523-1527. 

The events of the year 1523 had practically made 
an end of the imperial alliance. Henry YIII. was 
not in a position to go to war again, and his confidence 
in Charles Y.'s good intentions towards him was 
dispelled. Charles and Francis had had enough of 
war, and both of them secretly desired peace, but 
neither would make the first move towards it. Wol- 
sey watched their movements keenly, and strove 
that English interests should not be entirely sacrificed 
in the pacification which seemed imminent. He 
strove to induce Charles to allow proposals of peace 
to proceed from England, which should arbitrate on 
the differences between him and Francis. He urged 
that in any negotiations which Charles himself under- 
took he was bound to consider how Henry could be 
recompensed for his losses. Moreover, he secretly 
opened up negotiations of his own with the French 

164 



RENEWAL OF PEACE. 166 

Court, and used the imperial alliance as a means to 
heighten England's value to France. 

The more Wolsey watched events the more he be- 
came convinced that the best thing was to make a 
separate peace with France, yet in such a way as to 
avoid an open breach with the Emperor. There 
were other reasons besides the failure of military ex- 
peditions, and the distrust in any good result from 
their continuance, which impelled Wolsey to a paci- 
fic policy. He knew only too well that war was 
impossible, and that the country could not bear the 
continued drain on its resources. If Henry YII. 
had developed the royal power by a parsimony which 
enabled him to be free from parliamentary control, 
Henry YIIL had dazzled his people by the splen- 
dor of royalty, and had displayed his magnificence 
to such an extent that Englishmen were beginning 
to doubt if they could afford much longer to be so 
important, or rather if England's importance in 
Continental affairs were worth all the money that it 
cost. Of late years the weight of taxation had be- 
come oppressive, and the expenses of the last cam- 
paign were difficult to meet. 

There was no difference between the national rev- 
enue and the royal revenue in Wolsey's days. The 
king took all the money he could get, and spent it 



106 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

as lie thought good ; if he went to war he expected 
his people to pay for it. In an ordinary way the 
king was well provided for by his feudal dues and 
the proceeds of customs, tonnage and poundage,* 
and the tax on wool, wool-fells, and leather. When 
extraordinary expenses were incurred Parliament 
was summoned, and granted taxes to the king. 
Their vote was reckoned on an old assessment of 
tenths and fifteenths of the value of chattels pos- 
sessed by the baronage and the commons ; and when 
Parliament made this grant the clergy in their con- 
vocation granted a tenth of clerical incomes. The 
value of a tenth and fifteenth was £30,000; of a 
clerical tenth £10,000; so that the usual grant in 
case of any emergency amounted to £40,000 from 

* " Tonnage and poundage were customs duties anciently 
imposed upon exports and imports, the former being a duty 
upon all wines imported in addition to prisage and butlerage, 
the latter a duty imposed ad valorem at the rate of twelve 
pence in the pound on all merchandise imported or exported. 
The duties were levied at first by agreement with merchants 
(poundage in 1302, tonnage in 1347), then granted by parlia- 
ment in 1373, at first for a limited period only. They were 
considered to be imposed for defence of the realm. From the 
reign of Henry VI. until that of James I. they were usually 
granted for life. They were not granted to Charles I. . . . 
After the Restoration they were granted to Charles II. and 
his two successors for life. By acts of Anne and George I. 
the duties were made perpetual, and mortgaged for the public 
debt. In 1787 they were finally abolished, and other modes 
of obtaining revenue were substituted." 



RENEWAL OF PEACE. 167 

the whole realm. For his expedition of 1513 Henry 
obtained a vote of two tenths and fifteenths, besides 
a subsidy of a graduated income and property tax 
which was estimated to produce £160,000, and this 
had to be supplemented by a further grant of tenths 
and fifteenths in 1515. 

It was in 1515 that Wolsey became Chancellor, 
and with that office assumed the entire responsibil- 
ity for all affairs of state. He managed to intro- 
duce some order into the finances, and during the 
years of pacific diplomacy things went tolerably 
well. But the French expeditions were costly, and 
in April, 1523, Parliament had to be summoned to 
pay the king's debts. The war against France was 
popular, and men were willing to contribute. 

So on 15th April Henry YIII. opened Parlia- 
ment, and Tunstal,"^ Bishop of London, delivered 
the usual oration in praise of the king and grief over 

* Cuthbert Tunstall, or Tonstall, (1475?— 1559) was an En- 
glish prelate, man of letters, and statesman. A Catholic in 
that age of intolerance and persecution, he was conspicuous 
for his humanity and allowed no burning of heretics during 
his administration. He became bishop of London in 1522, 
lord privy seal in 1523, and bishop of Durham in 1530. Under 
Edward VI. he was degraded from office and imprisoned in 
the tower, but under Bloody Mary he was restored to his 
bishopric. He refused to take the oath of supremacy after 
Elizabeth ascended the throne, and was again deprived of his 
see. He wrote on theological and scientific subjects. 



168 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

the evils of the time. The Commons departed, and 
elected as their Speaker Sir Thomas More, who had 
already abandoned the quiet paths of literature for 
the stormy sea of politics. The king's assent was 
given in the usual manner to his appointment, and 
the session was adjourned. The Commons doubt- 
less began to take financial matters under their con- 
sideration, but it was thought desirable that they 
should have a definite statement of the national 
needs. On 29th April Wolsey went to the House, 
and after urging the importance of the interests at 
stake in the war, proposed a subsidy of £800,000, 
to be raised according to an old method, by a tax of 
four shillings in the pound on all goods and lands. 
Next day there was much debate on this proposal ; 
it was urged that the sudden withdrawal of so large 
an amount of ready money would seriously affect 
the currency, and was indeed almost impossible. 
A committee was appointed to represent to Wolsey 
that this was the sense of the House, and beg him 
to induce the king to moderate his demands. Wol- 
sey answered that he would rather have his tongue 
pulled out with red-hot pincers than carry such a 
message to the king. 

The Commons in a melancholy mood renewed 
their debate till Wolsey entered the House and de- 



RENEWAL OF PEACE. 1^9 

sired to reason with those who opposed his de- 
mands. On this Sir Thomas More, as Speaker, de- 
fended the privilege of the House by saying, " That 
it was the order of that House to hear and not to 
reason save among themselves. ' ' Whereupon Wol- 
sey was obliged to content himself with answering 
such objections as had come to his ear. He argued, 
it would seem with vigor, that the country was 
much richer than they thought, and he told them 
some unpleasant truths, which came with ill grace 
from himself, about the prevalence of luxury. 
After his departure the debate continued till the 
House agreed to grant two shillings in the pound on 
all incomes of £20 a year and upwards ; one shill- 
ing on all between £20 and £2 ; and fourpence on 
all incomes under £2 ; this payment to be extended 
over two years. This was increased by a county 
member, who said, ''Let us gentlemen of £50 a 
year and upwards give the king of our lands a shill- 
ing in the pound, to be paid in two years. ' ' The 
borouo^h members stood aloof, and allowed the land- 
holders to tax themselves an extra shilling in the 
pound if they chose to do so. This was voted on 
21st May, and Parliament was prorogued till 10th 
June. Meanwhile popular feeling was greatly 
moved by rumors of an unprecedented tax, and 



itO LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

what was really done was grossly exaggerated on 
all sides. As the members left the House an angry 
crowd greeted them with jeers. "We hear say 
that you will grant four shillings in the pound. 
Do so, and go home, we advise you. ' ' Really the 
members had done the best they could, and worse 
things were in store for them. For when the ses- 
sion was resumed the knights of the shire showed 
some resentment that they had been allowed to 
outdo the burgesses in liberality. They proposed 
that as they had agreed to pay a shilling in the 
pound on land assessed over £50 in the third year, 
so a like payment should be made in the fourth 
year on all goods over the value of £50. There 
was a stormy debate on this motion; but Sir 
Thomas More at length made peace, and it was 
passed. Thus Wolsey on the whole, had contrived 
to obtain something resembling his original pro- 
posal, but the payments were spread over a period 
of four years. After this Wolsey, at the proro- 
gation of Parliament, could afford to thank the Com- 
mons on the king's behalf, and assure them that 
' ' his Grace would in such wise employ their loving 
contribution as should be for the defence of his 
realm and of his subjects, and the persecution and 
pressing of his enemy. ' ' 



RENEWAL OF PEACE. 171 

Yet, however Wolsey might rejoice in his suc- 
cess, he knew that he had received a serious warn- 
ing, which he was bound to lay to heart. He had 
been faithful to the king, and had done his best to 
carry out his views. The war with France was 
none of his advising, and he had no hopes of any 
advantage from it ; yet he was willing to take all 
the blame of measures which inwardly he disap- 
proved. He stood forward and assumed the un- 
popularity of taxation, whose necessity he deplored. 
Henry spent the nation's money at his pleasure, and 
"Wolsey undertook the ungrateful task of squeezing 
supplies from a reluctant Parliament, while the 
king sat a benevolent spectator in the background. 
Henry took all the glory, and left Wolsey to do all 
the unpleasant work. Wolsey stood between the 
national temper and the king ; he felt that he could 
not stand under the odium of accomplishing many 
more such reconciliations. England had reached 
the limit of its aspirations after national glory. 
Eor the future Wolsey must maintain the king's 
honor without appealing to the national pocket. 

There was no prospect of obtaining further sup- 
plies from Parliament, and the best way to pay the 
expenses of a futile war was by making a lucrative 
peace. Wolsey tried to induce Francis I. to renew 



172 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

his financial agreement with Henry YIII. which 
the war had broken off ; and to bring pressure to 
bear upon him for this purpose, was willing to con- 
tinue with Charles Y. negotiations for a fresh under- 
taking. 

So in June the unwearied Pace was sent to Bour- 
bon's * camp to promise England's help on terms 
which Wolsey knew were sure to be refused. Eng- 
land would again join in a campaign against France 
in the north, provided Bourbon, by an invasion of 
Provence, succeeded in raising a rebellion against 
Francis I. , and would take an oath of allegiance to 
the English king as lord of France. Bourbon sorely 
needed money, and did all he could to win over 
Pace. He secretly took an oath of fidelity, not of 

* Charles, duke of Bourbon (1490-1527), commonly called 
Constable Bourbon, was the ablest general of his day in 
France. To his skill was due the victory of the French over 
the Swiss, who were considered invincible up to that time, at 
the battle of Marignano (see above, p. 38, note) . He later quar- 
relled with his king, Francis I., on account of the machinations 
of Louise of Savoy. He then entered the service of Charles V., 
raised an army of Germans, and won the battle of Pa via in 
1525. As Charles, possibly jealous of Bourbon's growing 
power, refused to pay the German troops, the general re- 
solved to recoup them in his own way, by the spoils of vic- 
tory. He led them through a hostile country to the city of 
Rome, which they captured by assault. He was the first to 
mount the wall, and was among the first slain. After his 
death, the excesses of the soldiers were without restrain and 
terrible. See below, p. 302. 



RENEWAL OF PEACE. 1^3 

allegiance ; and Pace was impressed with admiration 
of his genius and believed in his chancer of success. 
"Wolsey was coldly cautious towards Pace's enthu- 
siasm, and the result was a breach between them. 
Pace openly blamed Wolsey, as Wingfield had done 
before, and pressed for money and an armed de- 
monstration. Wolsey soberly rebuked his lack of 
judgment by setting before him a well-considered 
survey of the political chances. His caution proved 
to be justified, as Bourbon's invasion of Provence 
was a failure. Wolsey gained all that he needed 
by his pretence of helping Bourbon ; he induced the 
French Court to undertake negotiations seriously by 
means of secret envoys who were sent to London. 

Still Wolsey did not hide from himself the diffi- 
culties in the way of an alliance with France which 
would satisfy Henry YIII. or bring substantial ad- 
vantage to the country. However, on one point 
he managed to obtain an immediate advantage. He 
always kept his eye on Scotland, and now used the 
first signs of returning friendliness on the part of 
France to further his scheme of restoring English 
influence in that country. In June the Duke of 
Albany was recalled to France, and Wolsey set to 
work to win back Queen Margaret to her brother's 
cause. He seems to have despaired of blandish- 



174 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

ments, and contrived a way to have a more power- 
ful weapon. Margaret's husband, the Earl of An- 
gus, had been*sent by Albany to France, where he 
was carefully guarded. On the first signs of re- 
newed friendliness between England and France a 
hint from Wolsey procured him an opportunity of 
escaping to England. With Angus at his disposal 
Wolsey urged Margaret to be reconciled to her hus- 
band, and terrified her by the prospect of restoring 
him to Scotland in case she refused reconciliation. 
By playing cleverly on her personal feelings, "Wol- 
sey led her by degrees to accept his own plan for 
freeing Scotland from Albany and French interfer- 
ence. He urged that the young king was now old 
enough to rule for himself, and promised Margaret 
help to secure her supremacy in his council. At 
the same time he won over the Scottish lords by the 
prospect of a marriage between James and Mary of 
England [commonly known in history as ' ' Bloody 
Mary], who was still Henry YIII.'s heir. In Au- 
gust James Y. was set up as king, and the Scot- 
tish Parliament approved, of the English marriage. 
Again Wolsey won a signal triumph, and accom- 
plished by diplomacy what the sword had been un- 
able to achieve. 

We need not follow the complicated diplomacy 



RENEWAL OF PEACE. I'^S 

of the year 1524, which was transferred to Italy, 
whither Francis I. had pursued Bourbon and was 
engaged in the siege of Pavia. It is enough to say 
that Wolsey pursued a cautious course : if Francis 
won the day in Italy he was ready to treat with 
him liberally : if the imperial arms prevailed, then 
he could sell England's alliance more dearly. But 
this cautious attitude was displeasing to Charles, 
whose ambassador in London, de Praet, complained 
without ceasing of the growing coldness of Henry 
and Wolsey. Wolsey kept a sharp watch on De 
Praet, and resented his keen-sightedness ; finally, 
in February 1525, De Praet 's despatches were inter- 
cepted, and he was called before the Council, when 
Wolsey charged him with untruth. De Praet an- 
swered by complaining that his privileges as an am- 
bassador had been violated. He was ordered to 
confine himself to his own house till the king had 
written to the Emperor about his conduct. 

This was indeed an unheard-of treatment for the 
ambassador of an ally, and we can scarcely attribute 
it merely to personal spite on the part of so skilled 
a statesman as Wolsey. Perhaps it was a deliberate 
plan to cause a personal breach between Henry and 
the Emperor. No doubt Henry's own feelings 
were towards Charles rather than Francis, and it 



176 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

seems probable that Wolsey wished to show his 
master that Charles was only trying to make use of 
his friendship for his own purposes. The des- 
patches of Charles's envoy were opened and their 
contents made known to Henry for some time be- 
fore Wolsey took any open action. He acted when 
he saw his master sufficiently irritated, and he prob- 
ably suggested that the best way to give Charles a 
lesson was by an attack upon his ambassador. This 
proposal agreed with the high-handed manner of 
action which Henry loved to adopt. It gave him 
a chance of asserting his own conception of his 
dignity, and he challenged Charles to say if he 
identified himself with his ambassador's sentiments. 

Under any circumstances it was an audacious step, 
and as things turned out it was an unfortunate one. 
Within a few days the news reached England that 
Francis had been attacked at Pa via by the imperial 
forces, had been entirely routed, and was a prisoner 
in the hands of Charles. Though Wolsey was pre- 
pared for some success of the imperial arms, he was 
taken aback at the decisiveness of the stroke. His 
time for widening the breach between Charles and 
Henry had not been well chosen. 

However, Charles saV that he could not pursue 
his victory without money, and to obtain money he 



RENEWAL OF PEACE. I77 

must adopt an appearance of moderation. So he 
professed in Italy willingness to forget the past, and 
he avoided a quarrel with England. He treated 
the insult to his ambassador as the result of a per- 
sonal misunderstanding. Henry complained of De 
Praet's unfriendly bearing; Charles assured him 
that no oifence was intended. Both parties saved 
their dignity ; De Praet was recalled, and another 
ambassador was sent in his stekd. Wolsey saw that 
he had been precipitate, and hastened to withdraw 
his false step ; Henry lent him his countenance, but 
can scarcely have relished doing so. Wolsey knew 
that his difficulties were increased. The victory of 
Charles again drew Henry to his side and revived 
his projects of conquest at the expense of France, 
now left helpless by its king's captivity. As the 
defection of Bourbon had formerly awakened 
Henry's hopes, so now did the captivity of Francis. 
Again Wolsey' s pacific plans were shattered ; again 
.he was driven to undertake the preparations for a 
w^ar of which his judgment disapproved. 

Indeed Wolsey knew that war was absolutely im- 
possible for want of money ; but it was useless to 
say so to the king. He was bound to try and raise 
supplies by some means or other, and his experience 

of the last Parliament had shown him that there 
12 



178 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

was no more to be obtained from that source. In 
his extremity Wolsey undertook the responsibility 
of reviving a feudal obligation which had long been 
forgotten. He announced that the king purposed 
to pass the sea in person, and demanded that the 
goodwill of his subjects should provide for his 
proper equipment. But the goodwill of the people 
was not allowed the privilege of spontaneous gener- 
osity. Commissioners were appointed in every shire 
to assess men's property, and require a sixth part of 
it for the king's needs. Wolsey himself addressed 
the citizens of London. When they gave a feeble 
assent to his request for advice, " whether they 
thought it convenient that the king should pass 
the sea with an army or not," he proceeded, 
'' Then he must go like a prince, which cannot be 
without your aid." He unfolded his proposals 
for a grant of 3s. 4d. in the pound on £50 and up- 
wards, 2s. 8d. on £20 and upwards, and Is. in the 
pound on £1 and upwards. Some one pleaded that 
the times were bad. ''Sirs," said Wolsey, "speak 
not to break what is concluded, for some shall not 
pay even a tenth; and it were better that a few 
should suffer indigence than the king at this time 
should lack. Beware, therefore, and resist not, nor 
ruffle not in this case ; otherwise it may fortune to 



RENEWAL OF PEACE. 179 

cost some their heads." This was indeed a high- 
handed way of dealing Tvith a public meeting, Avhich 
was only summoned to hear the full measure of the 
coming calamity. We cannot wonder that ' ' all 
people cursed the cardinal and his adherents as sub- 
verters of the laws and liberty of England." Nor 
was Wolsey ignorant of the unpopularity which he 
incurred; but there was no escape possible. He 
rested only on the king's favor, and he knew that 
the king's personal affection for him had groAvn 
colder. He was no longer the king's friend and 
tutor, inspiring him with his own lofty ideas and 
slowly revealing his far-reaching schemes. Late 
years had seen Wolsey immersed in the business of 
the State, while the king pursued his own pleasures, 
surrounded by companions who did their utmost to 
undermine Wolsey 's influence. They advocated 
war, while he longed for peace ; they encouraged 
the royal extravagance, while he worked for 
economy; they favored the imperial alliance and 
humored Henry's dreams of the conquest of France, 
while Wolsey saw that England's strength lay in a 
powerful neutrality. The king's plans had deviated 
from the lines which Wolsey had designed, and the 
king's arbitrary temper had grown more impatient 
of restraint. Wolsey had imperceptibly slipped 



180 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

from the position of a friend to that of a servant, and 
he was dimly conscious that his continuance in the 
royal service depended on his continued usefulness. 
"Whatever the king required he was bound to provide. 
So Wolsey strained every nerve to fill the royal 
coffers by the device of an ''Amicable Loan," 
which raised a storm of popular indignation. Men 
said with truth that they had not yet paid the sub- 
sidy voted by Parliament, and already they were 
exposed to a new exaction. Coin had never been 
plentiful in England, and at that time it was ex- 
ceptionally scarce. The commissioners in the 
different shires all reported the exceeding difficulty 
which they met with in the discharge of their un- 
pleasant duty. It soon became clear to "Wolsey 
that his demand had overshot the limits of prudence, 
and that money could not be raised on the basis of 
the parliamentary assessment without the risk of 
a rebellion. Accordingly Wolsey withdrew from 
his original proposal. He sent for the mayor and 
corporation of London and told them, in the fic- 
titious language in which constitutional procedure 
is always veiled, ''I kneeled down to his Grace, 
showing him both your good minds towards him 
and also the charge you continually sustain, the 
which, at my desire and petition, was content to 



RENEWAL OF PEACE. 181 

call in and abrogate the same commission. ' ' The 
attempt to raise money on the basis of each man's 
ratable value was abandoned, and the more usual 
method of a benevolence was substituted in its stead. 

This, however, was not much more acceptable. 
Again Wolsey summoned the mayor and corpora- 
tion ; but they had now grown bolder, and pleaded 
that benevolences had been abolished by the statute 
of Richard III. Wolsey angrily answered that Rich- 
ard was a usurper and a murderer of his nephews ; 
how could his acts be good ? ' ' An it please your 
Grace, ' ' was the answer, ' ' although he did evil, 
yet in his time were many good acts made not by 
him only, but by the consent of the body of the 
whole realm, which is Parliament." There was 
nothing more to be said, and "Wolsey had to con- 
tent himself with leaving every man to contribute 
privily what he would. It did not seem that this 
spontaneous liberality went far to replenish the 
royal exchequer. 

What happened in London was repeated in dif- 
ferent forms in various parts of England. In Nor- 
wich there was a tumult, which it needed the pres- 
ence of the Duke of Norfolk to appease. He asked 
the confused assembly who was their captain, and 
bade that he should speak. Then out spake one 



182 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

John Greene, a man of fifty years. " My Lord, 
since you ask who is our captain, forsooth, his 
name is Poverty ; for he and his cousin IN'ecessity 
have brought us to this doing. For all these per- 
sons and many more live not of ourselves, but we 
live by the substantial occupiers of this country ; 
and yet they give us so little wages for our work- 
manship that scarcely we be able to live ; and thus 
in penury we pass the time, we, our wives and chil- 
dren : and if they, by whom we live, be brought in 
that case that they of their little cannot help us to 
earn our living, then must we perish and die mis- 
erably. I speak this, my lord: the clothmakers 
have put away all their people, and a far greater 
number, from work. The husbandmen have put 
away their servants and given up household ; they 
say the king asketh so much that they be not able 
to do as they have done before this time, and 
then of necessity must we die wretchedly. ' ' 

John Greene's speech expressed only too truly the 
condition of affairs in a period of social change. 
The old nobility had declined, and the old form of 
life founded on feudalism was slowly passing away. 
Trade was becoming more important than agricul- 
ture ; the growth of wool was more profitable than 
the growth of corn. It is true that England as a 



IlENEWAL OF PEACE. 183 

whole was growing richer, and that the standard of 
comfort Avas rising ; but there was a great displace- 
ment of labor, and consequent discontent. The 
towns had thriven at the expense of the country ; 
and in late years the war with France had hindered 
trade with the ^Netherlands. The custom duties 
had diminished, the drain of bullion for war ex- 
penses had crippled English commerce. There had 
been a succession of bad seasons, and every one had 
begun to diminish his establishment and look more 
carefully after his expenditure. 

All this was well known to the Duke of ^Norfolk, 
and was laid before the king. The commissions were 
recalled, pardons were granted to the rioters, and the 
loan was allowed to drop. But Wolsey had to bear all 
the odium of the unsuccessful attempt, while the king 
gained all the popularity of abandoning it. Yet 
Henry YIII. resented the failure, and was angry 
with Wolsey for exposing him to a rebuff. In spite 
of his efforts Wolsev was ceasino^ to be so useful as 
he had been before, and Henry began to criticise his 
minister. Brave and resolute as Wolsey was, his 
labors and disappointments began to tell u2)on him. 
Since the failure of the Conference of Calais he had 
been Avorking not at the development of a policy 
which he approved, but at the uncongenial task of 



184 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

diminishiiig the dangers of a policy which he disap- 
proved. The effects of this constant anxiety told 
upon his health and spirits, and still more upon his 
temper. He might be as able and as firm as ever, 
but he no longer had the same confidence in him- 
self. 

It was perhaps this feeling which led Wolsey to 
show the king the extremity of his desire to serve 
him by undertaking the desperate endeavor to wring 
more money from an exhausted people. Wolsey 
had done his utmost to satisfy the king ; he had ac- 
cepted without a murmur the burden of popular ha- 
tred which the attempt was sure to bring. There is 
a pathos in his words, reported by an unfriendly 
hand, addressed to the council ; ' ' Because every 
man layeth the burden from him, I am content to 
take it on me, and to endure the fume and noise of 
the people, for my goodwill towards the king, and 
comfort of you, my lords and other the king's coun- 
cillors ; but the eternal God knoweth all. " ISTor was 
it enough that he submitted to the storm ; he wished 
to give the king a further proof of his devotion. 
Though others might withhold their substance, yet 
he would not. He offered the king his house at 
Hampton Court, which he had built as his favorite 
retreat, and had adorned to suit his taste. It was 



RENEWAL OF PEACE. 185 

indeed a royal gift, and Henry had no scruple in ac- 
cepting it. But the offer seems to show an uneasy 
desire to draw closer a bond which had been gradu- 
ally loosened, and renew an intimacy which was per- 
ceptibly diminishing. 

However, in one way Wolsey had a right to feel 
satisfaction even in his ill-success. If money was 
not to be had, war was impossible, and Wolsey 
might now pursue his own policy and work for 
peace. He had to face the actual facts that England 
was allied to Charles, who had won a signal victory 
over Francis, and had in his hands a mighty hostage 
in the person of the King of France. His first ob- 
ject was to discover Charles Y.'s intentions, and pre- 
vent him from using his advantage solely for his 
own profit. Bishop Tunstal and Sir Richard Wing- 
field were sent to Charles with orders to put on a 
bold face, and find whether Charles thought of de- 
throning Francis or releasing him for a ransom. In 
the first case, they were to offer military aid from 
England; in the second, they were to claim for 
England a large share in the concessions to be wrung 
out of Francis. The English demands were so ex- 
orbitant that though they may have satisfied the 
fantastic aspirations of Henry, Wolsey must have 
known them to be impossible. Under cover of a 



186 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

friendly proposal to Charles he was really preparing 
the way for a breach. 

Charles on his side was engaged in playing a similar 
game. In spite of his success at Pavia he was really 
helpless. He had no money, and the captivity of the 
^French king awakened so much alarm in Europe that 
he felt compelled to use his advantage moderateh^. 
As a first measure he needed money, and saw no 
chance of obtaining it save by marrying Isabella 
of Portugal, who would bring him a dowry 
of 1,000,000 golden crowns."^ For this purpose he 
must free himself from the engagement of the treaty 
of Windsor, by which he was betrothed to Mary of 
England. So he acted as Wolsey was acting. He 
professed a great desire to carry out his engagement 
as a means of getting rid of it, and sent ambas- 
sadors to ask that Mary and her dowry should be 
given up to him, with a further loan of 200,000 
ducats, t 

The two embassies had crossed on the way, and 
Henry received Charles's communication as an an- 
swer to his demands. In this way it served "Wolsey's 
purpose admirably, for it showed clearly enough 
that the interests of Henry and Charles were not 

* The golden crown of Portugal is valued at $10.78. 
f The ducat is valued at $3.28, 



RENEWAL OF PEACE. 187 

the same. Charles was bent upon pursuing his own 
advantage, and was still willing to use Henry as a 
useful ally ; but Henry saw nothing to be gained 
from the alliance, and the time had come when 
some tangible gain was to be secured from all his 
expenditure. Hitherto he had been personally on 
Charles's side, but in his conferences with the im- 
perial envoys in the month of June he made it clear 
that his patience was exhausted. Henceforth he 
accepted Wolsey's views of peace with France. If 
Charles was striving to make what he could out of 
the captivity of the French king, then England 
might as well join in the scramble. The misfortune 
of France was England's opportunity. If Charles 
was not willing to share his gains with Henry, then 
Henry must pick up what he could for himself. It 
was an unwelcome conclusion for Charles, who hoped 
to bring the pressure of irresistible necessity to bear 
on his captive. If England also joined in the bid- 
ding its competition would run down his price. 

Moreover, this resolution of Henry made a great 
change in his domestic relations. Queen Katharine 
was devoted to her nephew's interests, and had ex- 
ercised considerable influence over her husband. 
They talked together about politics, and Henry 
liked to move amidst acquiescent admiration. All 



188 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

that was now at an end, as Katharine could not 
change her sympathies, and had not the tact to dis- 
guise her disapprobation. From this time forward 
Henry did not treat her with the affection and fam- 
iliarity which had been his wont, and when he 
made up his mind he did not scruple to emphasize 
his decision by his acts. He had not been a faith- 
ful husband, but hitherto his infidelity had not been 
a cause of domestic discord. He had an illegitimate 
son, Henry Fitzroy, by Elizabeth Blunt, one of the 
Queen's ladies-in-waiting; and on 15th June he 
created this boy of six years old Duke of Richmond . 
This he did with a display of pomp and ceremony 
which must have been very offensive to the Queen ; 
nor was the offence diminished when, a month after- 
wards, the boy was created Lord High Admiral of 
England. Such an act was, to say the least, a taunt 
to Katharine that she had borne no son ; it was a 
public proclamation of the king's disappointment 
and discontent with his matrimonial lot. The luck- 
less Katharine could make no complaint, and was 
forced to submit to the king's will; but we cannot 
doubt that she put down to Wolsey what was not 
his due, and that Wolsey had to bear the hatred 
of her friends for the king's change of policy, and 
all that flowed from it. 



RENEWAL OF PEACE. 189 

However, Wolsey's course was now clearly to 
dissolve the imperial alliance without causing a 
breach. For this purpose he used Charles's desire 
for his Portuguese marriage. He offered to release 
Charles from his engagement to Mary on condition 
that the treaty was annulled, that he paid his debts 
to Henry, and concluded a peace with France to 
England's satisfaction. Charles refused to take any 
step so decided, and the negotiations proceeded. 
But Wolsey's attention was not so much directed 
to Charles as to France, where Louise, the king's 
mother, was desperately striving to procure her son's 
release. In their dealings with France there was a 
keen rivalry between England and the Emperor, 
which should succeed in making terms soonest. 
In this competition Wolsey had one advantage; 
he had already learned the stubbornness of the 
national spirit of France, and its willingness to 
submit to anything rather than territorial loss. 
So, while Charles haggled for provinces, Wolsey 
demanded money. He told the French envoys 
that in order to make peace, without having won 
laurels to justify it, Henry could not take less 
than 2,000,000 crowns,* and he would hear of no 
abatement. There was much discussion of all the 

* $3,420,000. 



lOO LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

old claims of England for compensation from 
France, but Wolsey knew the necessity of the mo- 
ment, and carried all his points. 

When the terms were agreed upon there was an- 
other discussion about the security to be given. 
Francis was a prisoner in Spain, and though his 
mother was regent, a doubt might be thrown upon 
her capacity to ratify such an important treaty. 
"Wolsey would admit no doubts in the matter. He 
knew that peace with France would not be popular, 
but he was determined that his master should see 
its advantage in the substantial form of ready 
money with good security for its payment. Besides 
ratification by the regent he demanded the personal 
security of several French nobles, of towns and local 
estates. At length he was satisfied. The treaty 
was signed on 30th August, and was published on 
6th September. Henry was to receive 2,000,000 
crowns in annual instalments of 50,000; the treaty 
included Scotland as an ally of France, and it was 
stipulated that the Duke of Albany was not to 
return. Scotland, left unprotected, was bound to 
follow France, and in Januar}^, 1526, peace was 
signed with Scotland to the satisfaction of both 
countries. 

Wolsey could congratulate himself on the result 



RENEWAL OF PEACE. 1^1 

of his work. Again he had won for England a 
strong position, by setting her in the forefront of 
the opposition to the overweening power of the 
empire. Again had England's action done much 
to restore the equilibrimn of Europe. This had 
been achieved solely by Wolsey's diplomacy. 
Charles Y. had received a blow which he could 
neither parry nor resent. The French treaty with 
England deprived Charles of the means of exercis- 
ing irresistible pressure upon Francis, and en- 
couraged the Italian States to form an alliance 
against the Emperor. Francis, weary of ' his long 
captivity, signed the treaty of Madrid, and obtained 
his freedom in February, 1526. But he previously 
protested against it as extorted by violence, and re- 
fused to surrender an inch of French territory not- 
withstanding his promises. Charles gained little by 
his victory at Pa via. His hands were again full, as 
the Turks invaded Hungary, and Francis joined the 
Italian League against him. He still had every 
motive to keep on good terms with England, and 
"Wolsey had no desire to precipitate a breach. 

So Wolsey's policy for the future was one of cau- 
tion and reserve. The king withdrew more and 
more from public affairs, and spent his time in hunt- 
ing. His relations with Katharine became day by 



192 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

day more irksome, and he tried to forget his domes- 
tic life by leading a life of pleasure. Wolsey strove 
to hold the balance between Charles and Francis 
without unduly inclining to either side. Both 
wished to be on good terms with England, for 
neither was free from anxiety. The sons of Francis 
were hostages in Spain, and Charles was hampered 
by the opposition of the Italian League. Of this 
League Henry YIII. was a member, but he declined 
to give it any active support. The Italians, as 
usual, were divided, and Clement YII. was not the 
man to direct their distracted councils successfully. 
In September, 1526, a small force of Spaniards, 
aided by a party amongst the Roman barons, sur- 
prised Eome, sacked the papal palace, and filled 
Clement with terror. Charles Y. disavowed any 
share in this attack, and excused himself before 
Henry's remonstrances. But as Clement did not 
entirely amend his ways, the experiment was re- 
peated on a larger scale. In May, 1527, the imperial 
troops under the Duke of Bourbon and the German 
general George Frundsberg captured and plundered 
Rome, and took the Pope Clement YII. prisoner. * 

* " The Germans stood in battalions. But when they saw 
the Spaniards broken up and plundering, the desire was 
aroused in them also ; and now a spirit of emulation appeared, 
as to which nation could outdo the other in cruelty. ThQ 



RENEWAL OF PEACE. 193 

This unwonted deed filled Europe with horror. It 
seemed as if the Emperor had joined the enemies of 
the Church. 

Spaniards, it is asserted by impartial Italians, carried the day. 
There had been no siege, no bombardment, no flight of any 
great extent ; but as if the earth had opened, and had dis- 
gorged a legion of devils, so suddenly came these hosts. 
Everything was in a moment abandoned to them. We must 
endeavor to conceive what kind of men these German soldiers 
were. They formed an intermediate class between the prime 
and the refuse of the people. Gathered together by the hope 
of booty, indifferent to what end was assigned them, rendered 
wild by hunger and tardy pay, left without a master after 
the death of their commander [Bourbon was slain upon the 
walls of the city] , they found themselves unrestrained in the 
most luxurious city of the world — a city abounding with gold 
and riches, and at the same time decried for centuries in Ger- 
many, as the infernal nest of popes, who lived there as incarnate 
devils, in the midst of their Babylonian doings. The opinion 
that the pope of Rome, and Clement VII. in particular, was 
the devil, prevailed not only in Germany, but in Italy and 
in Rome the people called him so. . . . Prisoners of war 
were at that time regarded as slaves ; they were carried away 
as personal property, or a ransom was extorted. . . . This 
system was carried to a great pitch in Rome. The possessors 
of palaces wero obliged to purchase their ransom, the Spanish 
cardinals as well as the Italian — no difference was made. 
Thus at least escape was possible. . . . And as the people 
were treated, so were the things. Upon the inlaid marble 
floor of the Vatican, where the Prince of Orange took up his 
abode — the command of the army devolving upon him after 
Bourbon's death — the soldiers lighted their fire. The splendid 
stained glass windows, executed by William of Marseilles, 
were broken for the sake of the lead. Raphael's tapestries 
were pronounced excellent booty ; in the paintings on the 
walls the eyes were put out ; and valuable documents were 
given as straw to the horses which stood in the Sistin^ 

13 



194: LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

During this period Wolsey had been cautiously 
drawing nearer to France. At first he only con- 
templated strengthening the ties which bound the 
two countries together; but in the beginning of 
1527 he was willing to form a close alliance with 
France, which must lead to a breach with the Em- 
peror. French commissioners came to London, and 
a proposal was made that Francis should marry 
Mary, then a child of ten, though he was betrothed 
to the Emperor's sister Eleanor. Wolsey 's demands 
were high: a perpetual peace between the two 
countries, a perpetual pension of 50,000 crowns to 
the English king, a tribute of salt, and the sur- 
render of Boulogne and Ardres. In the course of 
the discussion the son of Francis, the Duke of Or- 
leans, was substituted for the father as Mary's hus- 
band ; on all other points Wolsey had his will, and 
never did he show himself a more consummate 
master of diplomacy. The treaty was signed on 

Chapel. The statues in the streets were thrown down ; the 
images of the Mother of God in the churches were broken to 
pieces. For six months the city thus remained in the power 
of the soldiery, who had lost all discipline. Pestilence and 
famine appeared. Rome had more than 90,000 inhabitants 
under Leo X. ; when Clement VII. returned a year after the 
conquest, scarcely a third of that number then existed — 
poor, famished people who had remained behind, because 
they knew not whither to turn." — Herman Grimm. 



RENEWAL OF PEACE. 195 

30th April. . The debts of Charles were transferred 
to Francis, and Wolsey could show that he had 
made a substantial gain. 

Doubtless Wolsey intended that this peace with 
France should form the basis of a universal peace, 
which he never ceased to pursue. The success of 
Charles Y. in Italy, and subsequent events at home, 
rapidly dispelled his hopes. Already the self will of 
Henry YIII. had driven him to consent to meas- 
ures which were against his judgment; the same 
self will, turned to domestic and personal affairs, 
was already threatening to involve "VYolsey in a 
matter whose far-reaching effects no man could 
foresee. 



CHAPTEE YIII. 



wolsey's domestic policy. 



We have been following the laborious career of 
Wolsey in his direction of foreign affairs. He held 
in his hands the threads of complicated negotiations, 
bj which he was endeavoring to assure England's 
power on the Continent, not by means of war but 
by skilful diplomacy. In doing this he had to 
guard the commercial relations of England with 
the Netherlands, and had also to bow before the 
selfwill of the king, who insisted on pursuing fan- 
tastic designs of personal aggrandizement. Still he 
steered a careful course amid many difficulties, 
though when he looked back upon his labors of 
thirteen years he must have owned to serious dis- 
appointment. Perhaps he sometimes asked him- 
self the question, if foreign policy was worthy of 
the best attention of an English minister, if he had 
not erred in adventuring on such large schemes 
abroad. There was much to do at home; many 
useful measures of reform awaited only a conve- 

196 



WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. I97 

nient season. He had hoped, when first he began 
his course, to have seen England long before this 
time peaceful and powerful, the arbiter of Euro- 
pean affairs, a pattern to other kingdoms, dealing 
honestly and sagaciously with the pressing needs 
of the time. He had labored incessantly for that 
end, but it was as far off as ever. The year 1527 saw 
England exhausted by useless wars, and Europe 
plunged in irreconcilable strife. Wolsey's dream 
of a united Europe, cautiously moved by England's 
moderating counsels, had vanished before forces 
which he could not control. 

Meanwhile domestic reforms had been thrust into 
the background. Wolsey was keenly alive to their 
unportance, and had a distinct policy which he 
wished to carry out. He had carefully gathered 
into his hands the power which would enable him 
to act, but he could not find the time for definite 
action. Something he contrived to do, so as to 
prepare the way for more ; but his schemes were 
never revealed in their entirety, though he trained 
the men who afterwards carried them out though in 
a crude and brutal shape. 

England was passing through a period of social 
change which necessitated a re-adjustment of old 
institutions. The decay of feudalism in the Wars 



198 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

of the Roses had been little noticed, but its results 
had been profound. In the sphere of government 
the check exercised bv the barons on the Crown 
was destroyed. Henry YII. carefully depressed 
the baronage and spared the pockets of the people, 
who were willing to have the conduct of affairs in 
the hands of the king so long as he kept order and 
guarded the commercial interests, which were more 
and more absorbing national energies. The nation 
wished for a strong government to put down an- 
archy and maintain order ; but the nation was not 
willing to bear the cost of a strong government on 
constitutional principles. Henry YII. soon found 
that he might do what he liked provided he did not 
ask for money ; he might raise supplies by uncon- 
stitutional exactions on individuals provided he did 
not embarrass the bulk of the middle classes, who 
were busied with trade. The nobles, the rich land- 
owners, the wealthv merchants, were left to the 
king's mercies; so long as the pockets of the com- 
mons were spared they troubled themselves no 
further. 

Henry YII. recognized this condition of national 
feeling, and pursued a policy of levelling class 
privileges and cautiously heeding the popular inter- 
ests ; by these means he established the royal power 



WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 199 

on a strong basis, and carried on his government 
through capable officials, who took their instruc- 
tions from himself. Some of the old nobles held 
office, but they were gradually reduced to the same 
level as the other officials with whom they con- 
sorted. The power of the old nobility passed 
silently away. 

With this political change a social change cor- 
responded. The barons of former years were great 
in proportion to the number of their retainers and 
the strength of their castles. J^ow retainers were 
put down by the Star Chamber; and the feudal 
lord was turned into the country gentleman. Land 
changed hands rapidly; opulent merchants pos- 
sessed themselves of estates. The face of the 
country began to wear a new look, for the new 
landlords did not desire a numerous tenantry but a 
large income. The great trade of England was 
wool, which was exported to Flanders. Tillage 
lands were thrown into pasture; small holders 
found it more difficult to live on their holdings; 
complaints were heard that the country was being 
depopulated. England was slowly passing through 
an economic change which involved a displacement 
of population, and consequent misery on the labor- 
ing classes. No doubt there was a great increase 



200 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

in national prosperity ; but prosperity was not uni- 
versally diffused at once, and men were keenly con- 
scious of present difficulties. Beneath the surface 
of society there was a widespread feeling of discon- 
tent. 

Moreover, among thinking men a new spirit was 
beginning to prevail. In Italy this new spirit was 
manifest by quickened curiosity about the world 
and life, and found its expression in a study of 
classical antiquity. Curiosity soon led to criticism ; 
and before the new criticism the old ideas on which 
the intellectual life of the Middle Ages was built 
were slowly passing away. Ehetoric took the place 
of logic, and the study of the classics superseded 
the study of theology. This movement of thought 
slowly found its way to England, where it began to 
influence the higher minds. 

Thus England was going through a crisis politi- 
cally, socially, and intellectually, when Wolsey 
undertook the management of affairs. This crisis 
was not acute, and did not call for immedipcte 
measures of direction; but Wolsey was aware of 
its existence, and had his own plans for the future. 
"We must regret that he put foreign policy in the 
first place, and reserved his constructive measures 
for domestic affairs. The time seemed ripe for 



WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. ^01 

great achievements abroad, and Wolsey was hope- 
ful of success. He may be pardoned for his lofty 
aspirations, for if he had succeeded England would 
have led the way in a deliberate settlement of many 
questions which concerned the wellbeing of the 
whole of Christendom. But success eluded Wol- 
sey's grasp, and he fell from power before he had 
time to trace decidedly the lines on which England 
might settle her problems for herself; and when 
the solution came it was strangely entangled in the 
personal questions which led to Wolsey's fall from 
power. Yet even here we may doubt if the meas- 
ures of the English Eeformation would have been 
possible if Wolsey's mind had not inspired the king 
and the nation with a heightened consciousness of 
England's power and dignity. Wolsey's diplomacy 
at least tore away all illusions about Pope and Em- 
peror, and the opinion of Europe, and taught Henry 
YIIL the measure of his own strength. 

It was impossible that Wolsey's powerful hand 
should not leave its impression upon everything 
which it touched. If Henry YIIL inherited a 
strong monarchy, Wolsey made the basis of mon- 
archical power still stronger. It was natural that 
he should do so, as he owed his own position entire- 
ly to the royal favor. But never had any king so 



202 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

devoted a servant as had Henry YIII. , in Wolsey ; 
and this devotion was not entirely due to motives of 
selfish calculation or to personal attraction. Wol- 
sey saw in the royal power the only possible means 
of holding England together and guiding it through 
the dangers of impending change. In his eyes the 
king and the king alone could collect and give ex- 
pression to the national will. England itself was 
unconscious of its capacities, and was heedless about 
the future. The nobles, so far as they had any 
policy, were only desirous to win back their old 
position. The Church was no longer the inspirer 
of popular aspirations or the bulwark of popular 
freedom. Its riches were regarded with a jeal- 
ous eye by the middle classes, who were busied 
with trade ; the defects of its organization had been 
deplored by its most spiritually-minded sons for a 
century ; its practices, if not its tenets, awakened 
the ridicule of men of intelligence ; its revenues sup- 
plied the king with officials more than they supplied 
the country with faithful pastors ; its leaders were 
content to look to the king for patronage and pro- 
tection. The traders of the towns and the new 
landlords of the country appreciated the growth of 
their fortunes in a period of internal quiet, and 
dreaded anything that might bring back discord. 



WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 203 

The laboring classes felt that redress of their griev- 
ances was more possible from a far-off king than from 
landlords who» in their eyes, were bent upon extor- 
tion. Every class looked to the king, and was con- 
fident in his good intentions. We cannot wonder 
that Wolsey saw in the royal power the only pos- 
sible instrument strong enough to work reforms, and 
set himself with goodwill to make that instrument 
efficacious. 

So Wolsey was in no sense a constitutional min- 
ister, nor did he pay much heed to constitutional 
forms. Parliament was only summoned once dur- 
ing the time that he was in office, and then he tried 
to browbeat Parliament and set aside its prerogatives. 
In his view the only function of Parliament was to 
grant money for the king's needs. The king should 
say how much he needed, and Parliament ought only 
to advise how this sum might most conveniently be 
raised. We have seen that Wolsey failed in his at- 
tempt to convert Parliament into a submissive in- 
strument of royal despotism. lie under-estimated 
the strength of constitutional forms and the influence 
of precedent. Parliament was willing to do its ut- 
most to meet the wishes of the king, but it would 
not submit to Wolsey' s high-handed dictation. The 
habits of diplomacy had impaired Wolsey 's sagacity 



204 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

in other fields ; lie had been so busy in managing 
emperors and kings that he had forgotten how to 
deal with his fellow-countrymen. He was unwise 
in his attempt to force the king's will upon Parlia- 
ment as an unchangeable law of its action. Henry 
YIII. looked on and learned from Wolsey's failure, 
and when he took the management of Parliament 
into his own hands he showed himself a consummate 
master of that craft. His skill in this direction has 
scarcely been sufficiently estimated, and his success 
has been put down to the servility of Parliament. 
But Parliament was by no means servile under 
"Wolsey's overbearing treatment. If it was sub- 
servient to Henry the reason is to be found in his 
skilful tactics. He conciliated different interests at 
different times ; he mixed the redress of acknowl- 
edged grievances with the assertion of far-reaching 
claims ; he decked out selfish motives in fair-sound- 
ing language ; he led men on step by step till they 
were insensibly pledged to measures more drastic 
than they approved; he kept the threads of his 
policy in his own hands till the only escape from 
utter confusion was an implicit confidence in his wis- 
dom ; he made it almost impossible for those who 
were dissatisfied to find a point on which they could 
establish a principle for resistance. He was so skilful 



WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 205 

that Parliament at last gave him even the power 
over the purse, and Henry, without raising a mur- 
mur, imposed taxes which Wolsey would not have 
dared to suggest. It is impossible not to feel that 
Henry, perhaps taught in some degree by Crom- 
well,^ understood the temper of the English people 
far better than Wolsey ever did. He established 
the royal power on a broader and securer basis than 
Wolsey could have erected. Where Wolsey would 
have made the Crown independent of Parliament, 
Henry YIII. reduced Parliament to be a willing 
instrument of the royal will. Wolsey would have 
subverted the constitution, or at least would have 
reduced it to a lifeless form ; Henry YIII. so worked 
the constitutional machinery that it became an addi- 
tional source of power to his monarchy. 

* Thomas Cromwell (1490 ?-1540) was in early life a friend 
of Wolsey. He became an adherent of the reformation 
and was a friend of Cranmer. Entering the service of Henry 
Vin. he rose rapidly to prominence. In 1535 he was ap- 
pointed secretary of state and keeper of the seal. In 1536 the 
king's supremacy over the church was delegated to him with 
the title of Vicar-General. He was created earl of Essex 
about 1540. His agency in the marriage of Henry VIII. to 
Anne of Cleves entangled him in fatal toils. He was executed 
for alleged treason and heresy. His character is differently 
estimated by different historians, some praising him higlily, 
and others regarding him as only a selfish and rapacious 
courtier. Hume says that he was " worthy of a better master 
and a better fate," which will hardly be denied. 



206 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

But though "Wolsey was not successful in his 
method of making the royal power supreme over 
Parliament, he took the blame of failure upon 
himself, and saved the king's popularity. Wolsey 's 
devotion to his master was complete, and cannot be 
assigned purely to selfish motives. "Wolsey felt that 
his opinions, his policy, his aspirations had been 
formed through his intercourse with the king ; and 
he was only strong when he and his master were 
thoroughly at one. At first the two men had been 
in complete agreement, and it cost Wolsey many a 
pang when he found that Henry did not entirely 
agree with his conclusions. After the imperial alli- 
ance was made Wolsey lost much of his brilliancy, 
Ms dash, and his force. This was not the result of 
age, or fatigue, or hopelessness so much as of the 
feeling that he and the king Avere no longer in ac- 
cord. Like many other strong men, Wolsey was 
sensitive. He did not care for popularity, but he 
felt the need of being understood and trusted. He 
gave the king his aff'ection, and he craved for a re- 
turn. There was no one else who could understand 
him or appreciate his aims, and when he felt that 
he was valued for his usefulness rather than trusted 
for what he was in himself, the spring of his life's 
energy was gone. 



WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 20Y 

Still "Wolsey labored in all things to exalt the 
royal power, for in it he saw the only hope of the 
future, and England endorsed his opinion. But 
AYolsey was too great a man to descend to servility, 
and Henry always treated him with respect. In fact 
Wolsey always behaved vf ith a strong sense of his 
personal dignity, and carried stickling for decorum 
to the verge of punctiliousness. Doubtless he had 
a decided taste for splendor and magnificence, but 
it is scarcely fair to put this down to the arrogance 
of an upstart, as was done by his English contem- 
poraries. Wolsey believed in the influence of out- 
ward display on the popular mind, and did his 
utmost to throw over the king a veil of unapproach- 
able grandeur and unimpeachable rectitude. He 
took upon himself the burden of the king's respon- 
sibilities, and stood forward to shield him against 
the danger of losing the confidence of his people. 
As the king's representative he assumed a royal 
state; he wished men to see that they were 
governed from above, and he strove to accustom 
them to the pomp of power. In his missions 
abroad, and in his interviews with foreign ambas- 
sadors, he was still more punctilious than in the 
matters of domestic government. If the king was 
always to be regarded as the king, Wolsey, as the 



208 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSE^. 

mouthpiece of the royal will, never abated his 
claims to honor only less than royal ; but he acted 
not so much from self-assertion as from policy. At 
home and abroad equally the greatness of the royal 
power was to be unmistakably set forth, and osten- 
tation was an element in the game of brag to which 
a spirited foreign policy inevitably degenerates. It 
was for the king's sake that Wolsey magnified him- 
self; he never assumed an independent position, 
but all his triumphs were loyally laid at the king's 
feet. In this point, again, Wolsey overshot the 
mark, and did not understand the English people, 
who were not impressed in the manner which he 
intended. When Henry took the government more 
directly into his own hands he managed better for 
himself, for he knew how to identify the royal will 
with the aspirations of the people, and clothed his 
despotism with the appearance of paternal solici- 
tude. He made the people think that he lived for 
them, and that their interests were his, whereas 
Wolsey endeavored to convince the people that the 
king alone could guard their interests, and that 
their only course was to put entire confidence in 
him. Henry saw that men were easier to cajole 
than to convince ; he worked for no system of royal 
authority, but contented himself with establishing 



WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 209 

his own will. In spite of the disadvantage of a 
royal education, Henrj was a more thorough Eng- 
lishman than Wolsey, though "Wolsey sprang from 
the people. 

It was Wolsey' s teaching, however, that pre- 
pared Henry for his task. The king who could 
use a minister like Wolsey and then throw him 
away when he was no longer useful, felt that there 
was no limitation to his self-sufficiency. 

Wolsey, indeed, was a minister in a sense which 
had never been seen in England before, for he held 
in his hand the chief power alike in Church and 
State. Not only was he chancellor, but also Arch- 
bishop of York, and endowed beside with special 
legatine powers. These powers were not coveted 
merely for purposes of show : Wolsey intended to 
use them, when opportunity offered, as a means 
of bringing the Church under the royal power as 
completely as he wished to subject the State. He 
had little respect for the ecclesiastical organization 
as such ; he saw its obvious .weaknesses, and wished 
to provide a remedy. If he was a candidate for 
the Papacy it was from no desire to pursue an ec- 
clesiastical policy of his own, but to make the papal 
power subservient to England's interests. He was 
sufficiently clear-sighted to perceive that national 



210 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

aspirations could not much longer be repressed by 
the high-sounding claims of the Papacy; he saw 
that the system of the Church must be adapted to 
the conditions of the time, and he wished to avert a 
revolution by a quiet process of steady and reason- 
able reform. He was perhaps honest in saying that 
he was not greatly anxious for the Papacy ; for he 
knew that England gave him ample scope for his 
energies, and he hoped that the example of Eng- 
land would spread throughout Europe. So at the 
beginning of his career he pressed for legatine 
powers, which were grudgingly granted by Leo X. , 
first for one year, and afterwards for five ; till the 
gratitude of Clement YII. conferred them for life. 
Clothed with this authority, and working in con- 
cert with the king, "VYolsey was supreme over 
the English Church, and perhaps dreamed of a fu- 
ture in which the Koman Pontiff would practically 
resign his claims over the northern churches to an 
English delegate, who might become his equal or 
superior in actual power. 

However this might be, he certainly contemplated 
the reform of the English Church by means of a 
judicious mixture of royal and ecclesiastical author- 
ity. Everything was propitious for such an under- 
taking, as the position of the Church was felt to be 



WOLSEYS DOMESTIC POLICY. 211 

in many ways anomalous and antiquated. The ris- 
ing middle class had many grievances to complain of 
from the ecclesiastical courts; the new landlords 
looked with contempt on the management of mo- 
nastic estates ; the new learning mocked at the ignor- 
ance of the clergy, and scoffed at the superstitions 
of a simpler past which had sur\dved unduly into an 
age when criticism was coming into fashion. The 
power of the Church had been great in days when 
the State was rude and the clergy were the natural 
leaders of men. N^ow the State was powerful and 
enjoyed men's confidence ; they looked to the king 
to satisfy their material aspirations, and the Church 
had not been very successful in keeping their spirit- 
ual aspirations alive. It was not that men were 
opposed to the Church, but they judged its privi- 
leges to be excessive, its disciplinary courts to be 
vexatious, its officials to be too numerous, and its 
wealth to be devoted to purposes which had ceased 
to be of the first importance. There was a general 
desire to see a re-adjustment of many matters in 
which the Church was concerned ; and before this 
popular sentiment churchmen found it difficult to 
assert their old pretensions, and preferred to rest 
contentedly under the protection of the Crown. 
A trivial incident shows the general condition of 



212 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

affairs with sufficient clearness. One of the claims 
which on the whole the clergy had maintained was 
the right of trial before ecclesiastical courts; and 
the greater leniency of ecclesiastical sentences had 
been a useful modification of the severity of the 
criminal law, so that benefit of clergy had been per- 
mitted to receive large extension of interpretation. 
Further, the sanctity of holy places had been per- 
mitted to give rights of sanctuary to criminals flee- 
ing from justice or revenge. Both of these expedi- 
ents had been useful in a rude state of society, and 
had done much to uphold a higher standard of hu- 
manity. But it was clear that they were only tem- 
porary expedients which were needless and even 
harmful as society grew more settled and justice 
was regularly administered. Henry YII. had felt 
the need of diminishing the rights of sanctuary, 
which gave a dangerous immunity to the numerous 
rebels against whom he had to contend, and he ob- 
tained a bull for that purpose from Pope Innocent 
YIII. The example which he set was speedily fol- 
lowed, and an Act was passed by the Parliament of 
1511, doing away with sanctuary and benefit of 
clergy in the case of those who were accused of 
murder. 

It does not seem that the Act met with any de- 



WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 213 

cided opposition at the time that it was passed; 
but there were still sticklers for clerical immunities, 
who regarded it as a dangerous innovation, and 
during the session of Parliament in 1515 the Abbot 
of Winchcombe * preached a sermon in which he 
denounced it as an impious measure. Henry YIII. 
adopted a course which afterwards stood him in 
good stead in dealing with the Church; he sub- 
mitted the question to a commission of divines and 
temporal peers. In the course of the discussion 
Standishjf the Warden of the Friars Minors, put 

* The Abbot ofWinchcombe, Gloucestershire, was Richard 
Kedermyster. He was educated at Oxford. In 1487 was 
elected lord abbot of the monasteryof Winchcombe, of which 
he was a member, and during his administration the institu- 
tion fiourislied like a little university, it was said. About 
1500, he resided for a year in Rome, after which he became a 
person of influence in the court of Henry VIII. When par- 
liament, in 1513, enacted that all robbers and murderers 
should be denied the benefit of the clergy, except such as 
were within the holy orders of a bishop, priest or deacon, the 
abbot, in a vigorous sermon, declared that the act was 
contrary to the law of God and the liberties of the holy 
church. Kedermyster died about 1531. 

f Henry Stand ish, the date of whose birth is unknown, 
studied at both Oxford and Cambridge and was later appointed 
warden of the Franciscan house, Greyfriars, London. He 
obtained the favor of Henry VIII, and frequently preached 
before the court. In the controversy over the benefit of 
clergy he opposed Kedermyster who championed the side of 
the clergy, and for his opposition he narrowly escaped the 
vengeance of the brethren. It was only the king's interven- 



214 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

the point clearly and sensibly by saying, '' The 
Act was not against the liberty of the Church, for 
it was passed for the weal of the whole realm. ' ' 
The clerical party were not prepared to face so 
direct an issue, and answered that it was contrary 
to the decretals. "So," replied Standish, ''.is the 
non-residence of bishops; yet that is common 
enough." Baffled in their appeal to law the 
bishops fell back upon Scripture, and quoted the 
text, ' ' Touch not mine anointed. ' ' Again Standish 
turned against them the new critical spirit, which 
destroyed the old arguments founded on isolated 
texts. David, he said, used these words of all God's 
people as opposed to the heathen ; as England was 
a Christian country the text covered the laity as 
well as the clergy. It was doubtless galling to the 
clerical party to be so remorselessly defeated by 
one of their own number, and their indignation was 
increased when the temporal lords on the commis- 

tion that saved him. Except in this one point, Standish sided 
with the Church in opposition to Colet and Erasmus, and in 
the persecution of heretics. He was appointed bishop of St. 
Asaph in 1518. At the beginning of the proceedings of the 
divorce of the king from Katharine, Standish was council for 
the queen, but he afterwards took a part in the ceremonies of 
the coronation of Anne Boleyn. On June 1, 1535, being then a 
very old man, he formally renounced allegiance to the Cath- 
olic Church, and he died on July 9, of the same year. 



WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 215 

sion decided against the Abbot of Winchcombe and 
ordered him to apologize. 

The bishops vented their anger on Standish, and 
summoned him to answer for his conduct before 
Convocation, whereon he appealed to the king. 
Again Henry appointed a commission, this time ex- 
clusively of lajnnen, to decide between Standish 
and his accusers. They reported that Convocation, 
by its proceeding against one who was acting as a 
royal commissioner, had incurred the penalties of 
praemunire, and they added that the king could, if 
he chose, hold a parliament without the lords spirit- 
ual, who had no place therein save by virtue of 
their temporal possessions. Probably this was in- 
tended as a significant hint to the spirituality that 
they had better not interfere unduly with parlia- 
mentary proceedings. Moreover, at the same time 
a case had occurred which stirred popular feeling 
against the ecclesiastical courts. A London mer- 
chant had been arrested by the chancellor of the 
Bishop of London on a charge of heresy, and a few 
days after his arrest was found hanging dead in 
his cell. Doubtless the unhapp}^ man had com- 
mitted suicide, but there was a suspicion that his 
arrest was due to a private grudge on the part of 
the chancellor, who was accused of having made 



216 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

away with him privily. Popular feeling waxed 
high, and the lords who gave their decision so 
roundly against Convocation knew that they were 
sure of popular support. 

Henry was not sorry of an opportunity of teach- 
ing the clergy their dependence upon himself, and 
he summoned the bishops before him that he might 
read them a lesson. Wolsey's action on this occa- 
sion is noticeable. He seems to have been the only 
one who saw the gravity of the situation, and he 
strove to effect a dignified compromise. Before the 
king could speak "Wolsey knelt before him and in- 
terceded for the clergy. He said that they had 
designed nothing against the king's prerogative, but 
thought it their duty to uphold the rights of the 
Church; he praj^ed that the matter might be re- 
ferred to the decision of the Pope. Henry answered 
that he was satisfied with the arguments of Stand- 
ish. Fox, Bishop of Winchester, turned angrily on 
Standish, and Archbishop War ham plucked up his 
courage so far as to say feebly, " Many holy men 
have resisted the law of England on this point and 
have suffered martyrdom. ' ' But Henry knew that 
he had not to deal with a second Becket, and that the 
days of Becket had gone by forever. He would 
have nothing to say to papal intervention or to 



WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 217 

clerical privilege ; the time had come for the asser- 
tion of royal authority, and Henry could use his 
opportunity as skilfully as the most skilful priest. 
" We," said he, '' are by God's grace king of Eng- 
land, and have no superior but God ; we will main- 
tain the rights of the Crown like our predecessors ; 
your decrees you break and interpret at your pleas- 
ure : but we will not consent to your interpretation 
any more than our predecessors have done. ' ' The 
immemorial rights of the English Crown were 
vaguer and more formidable than the rights of the 
Church, and the bishops retired in silence. Henry 
did not forget the service rendered him by Standish, 
who was made Bishop of St. Asaph in 1518. 

In this incident we have a forecast of the subse- 
quent course of events — the threat of prsemunire, 
the assertion of the royal supremacy, the submission 
of the clergy. J^othing was wanting save a suffi- 
cient motive to work a revolution in the ancient re- 
lations betAveen Church and State. Wolsey alone 
seems to have seen how precarious was the existing 
position of the Church. He knew that the Church 
was wrong, and that it would have to give way, 
but he wished to clothe its submission with a sem- 
blance of dignity, and to use the papal power, not 
as a means of guarding the rights of the Church, 



218 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

but as a means of casting an air of ecclesiastical 
propriety over their abandonment. Doubtless he 
proposed to use his legatine power for that purpose 
if the need arose ; but he Avas loyal to the Church 
as an institution, and did not wish it to fall unre- 
servedly to the tender mercies of the king. He saw 
that this was only to be avoided by a judicious 
pliancy on the Church's part, which could gain a 
breathing-space for carrying out gradual reforms. 

The fact that Wolsey was a statesman rather than 
an ecclesiastic gave him a clear view of the direction 
which a conservative reformation should pursue. 
He saw that the Church was too wealthy and too 
powerful for the work which it was actually doing. 
The wealth and power of the Church were a herit- 
age from a former age, in w^hich the care for the 
higher interests of society fell entirely into the 
hands of the Church because the State was rude and 
barbarous, and had no machinery save for the dis- 
charge of rudimentary duties. Bishops were the 
only officials who could curb the lawlessness of feu- 
dal lords; the clergy were the only refuge from 
local tyranny ; monks were the only landlords who 
cleared the forests, drained the marshes, and taught 
the pursuits of peace ; monastery schools educated 
the sons of peasants, and the universities gave young 



WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 219 

men of ability a career. All the humanitarian 
duties of society were discharged by the Church, 
and the Church had grown in wealth and importance 
because of its readiness to discharge them. But as 
the State grew stronger, and as the power of Par- 
liament increased, it was natural that duties which 
had once been delegated should be assumed by the 
community at large. It was equally natural that 
institutions which had once been useful should out- 
last their usefulness and be regarded with a jealous 
eye. By the end of the reign of Edward I. (130T) 
England had been provided with as many monastic 
institutions as it needed, and the character of mon- 
asticism began to decline. Benefactions for social 
purposes from that time forward were mainly de- 
voted to colleges, hospitals, and schools. The fact 
that so many great churchmen were royal ministers 
shows how the energy of the Church was placed at 
the disposal of the State and was by it absorbed. 
The Church possessed revenues, and a staff of officials 
which were too large for the time, in which it was 
not the only worker in the field of social welfare. 
It possessed rights and privileges which were neces- 
sary for its protection in days of anarchy and law- 
lessness, but which were invidious in days of more 
settled government. Moreover, the tenure of so 



^26 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

much land by ecclesiastical corporations like monas- 
teries, was viewed with jealousy in a time when 
commercial competition was becoming a dominant 
motive in a society which had ceased to be mainly 
warlike. 

From this point of view Wolsey was prepared for 
gradual changes in the position of the Church ; but 
he did not wish those changes to be revolutionary, 
nor did he wish them to be made b}^' the power of 
the State. He knew the real weakness of the Church 
and the practical omnipotence of the king ; but he 
hoped to unite the interests of the Crown and of the 
Church by his own personal influence and by his 
position as the trusted minister of king and Pope alil^e. 

He did not, however, deceive himself about the 
practical difficulties in the way of a conservative re- 
form, which should remove the causes of popular 
discontent, and leave the Church an integral part of 
the State organization. He knew that the ecclesias- 
tical system, even in its manifest abuses, was close- 
ly interwoven with English society, and he knew 
the strength of clerical conservatism. He knew 
also the dangers which beset the Church if it came 
across the royal will and pleasure. If any reform 
were to be carried out it mustbe by raising the stan- 
dard of clerical intelligence. Already many things 



WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 221 

which h?A accorded with the simpler minds of an 
earlier age had become objects of mockery to edu- 
cated laymen. The raillery of Erasmus at the relics 
of St. Thomas of Canterbury and the Yirgin's milk 
preserved at Walsingham * expressed the difference 
which had arisen between the old practices of relig- 
ion and the belief of thoughtful men. It would be 
well to divert some of the revenues of the Church 
from the maintenance of idle and ignorant monks 
to the education of a body of learned clergy. 

This diversion of monastic property had long been 
projected and attempted. William of Wykeham f 

* Matthew xxiii : 27 reads as follows : *' Woe unto you, 
scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites ! for ye are like unto whited 
sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are 
within full of dead men's bones and of all uncleanness." The 
comment of Erasmus was : " What would Jerome say could 
he see the Virgin's milk exhibited for money, with as much 
honor paid to it as to the consecrated body of Christ ; the mi- 
raculous oil ; the portions of the true Cross, enough if they 
were collected to freight a large ship ? Here we have the 
hood of St. Francis, there Our Lady's petticoat, or St. Anne's 
comb, or St. Thomas of Canterbury's shoes ; not presented as 
innocent aids to religion, but as the subtance of religion itself 
— and all through the avarice of priests and the hypocrisy of 
monks playing on the credulity of the people. Even bishops 
play their parts in these fantastic shows, and approve and 
dwell on them in their rescripts." It is not in the least sur- 
prising that Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits, 
should say that " he read a little and could not go on ; it 
checked his devotional emotions." 

f William of Wykeham (1324-1404) rose from obscure be-* 



222 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

endowed his l^ew College at Oxford with lands 
which he purchased from monasteries. Henry YI. 
endowed Eton and King's College with revenues 
which came from the suppression of alien priories. 
In 1497 John Alcock, Bishop of Elj^, obtained leave 
to suppress the decrepit nunnery of St. Ehadegund 
in Cambridge and use its site for the foundation 
of Jesus College. Wolsey only carried farther and 
made more definite the example which had pre- 
viously been set when in 1524 he obtained from 
Pope Clement YII. permission to convert into a 
college the monastery of St. Frideswyde in Oxford. 
Soon after he obtained a bull allowing him to sup- 
press monasteries with fewer than seven inmates, 
and devote their revenues to educational purposes. 
Nor was Wolsey the only man who was of opin- 
ion that the days of monasticism were numbered. 

ginnings to such influence that " everything was done by him 
and nothing without him." In 1364 he was appointed by 
Edward III. keeper of the privy seal and secretary to the 
King. In 1367 he was made Bishop of Winchester and Clian- 
cellor of England. In 1380 he begun New College, Oxford, 
and in 1387 Winchester school. In 1394, being then about 
seventy years of age, he be:,;an the reconstruction of the 
cathedral of Winchester, a splendid piece of work, and per- 
sonally supervised untiM403. Wyciiffe spoke of him as " a 
builder of castles," but he founded his colleges " first for the 
glory of God and the promotion of divine service, and second- 
arily for scholarships." He has been called the father of the 
public school system of England, See also above, p. 19, note. 



WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 223 

In 1515 Bishop Fox of Winchester contemplated the 
foundation of a college at Oxford in connection 
with the monastery of St. Swithin at Winchester. 
He was dissuaded from making his college depend- 
ent on a monastery by his brother bishop, Oldham 
of Exeter, who said, " Shall we build houses and 
provide livelihoods for a company of bussing monks, 
whose end and fall we ourselves may live to see? 
No, no : it is meet to provide for the increase of 
learning, and for such as by learning shall do good 
to Church and commonwealth." Oldham's advice 
prevailed, and the statutes of Fox's college of 
Brasenose were marked by the influence of the new 
learning as distinct from the old theology. 

Still Wolsey's bull for the wholesale dissolution 
of small monasteries was the beginning of a pro- 
cess which did not cease till all were swept away. 
It introduced a principle of measuring the utility of 
old institutions and judging their right to exist by 
their power of rendering service to the community. 
Relig-ious houses whose shrunken revenues could not 
support more than seven monks, according to the 
rising standard of monastic comfort, were scarcely 
likely to maintain serious discipline or pursue any 
lofty end. But it was the very reasonableness of 
this method of judgment which rendered it exceed- 



224 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

ingly dangerous. Tried by this standard, who 
could hope to escape ? Fuller scarcely exagger- 
ates when he says that this measure of Wolsey's 
' ' made all the forest of religious foundations in 
England to shake, justly fearing that the king 
would fell the oaks when the cardinal had begun 
to cut the underwood. ' ' It would perhaps have re- 
quired too much wisdom for the monks to see that 
submission to the cardinal's pruning-knife was the 
only means of averting the clang of the royal axe. 

The method which Wolsey pursued was after- 
wards borrowed by Henry YIII. Commissioners 
were sent out to inquire into the condition of small 
monasteries, and after an unfavorable report their 
dissolution was required, and their members were 
removed to a larger house. The work was one 
which needed care and dexterity as well as a good 
knowledge of business. Wolsey was lucky in his 
agents, chief amongst whom was Thomas Crom- 
well, an attorney whose cleverness Wolsey quickly 
perceived. In fact most of the men who so cleverly 
managed the dissolution of the monasteries for 
Henry had learned the knack under "Wolsey, who 
was fated to train up instruments for purposes 
which he would have abhorred. 

The immediate objects to which Wolsey devoted 



WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 225 

the money which he obtamed by the dissolution of 
these useless monasteries were a college in his old 
university of Oxford and another in his native town 
of Ipswich. The two were doubtless intended to 
be in connection vfith one another, after the model 
of William of Wykeham's foundations at Winchester 
and Oxford, and those of Henry YI. at Eton and 
Cambridge. This scheme was never carried out in 
its integrit}^, for on Wolsey's fall his works were 
not completed, and were involved in his forfeiture. 
Few things gave him more grief than the threatened 
check of this memorial of his greatness, .and owing 
to his earnest entreaties his college at Oxford was 
spared and was refounded. Its name, however, was 
changed from Cardinal College to Christ Church,* 

* Henry VIII., in 1530, announced his intention of dissolv- 
ing Cardinal College and seizing its property to his own use. 
" Thus," says Dr. Brewer, " one of the noblest foundations 
for education, so much needed for the eastern counties, was 
brought to desolation by the avarice of the King and the 
greed of his favorites." Cardinal College was totally sup- 
pressed, and when, nearly two years later, another institution 
was set up in its stead, under the title of " King Henry the 
Eighth's College," provision was made for no more than a 
dean and twelve canons, not necessarily connected with the 
university, and a few clerks and choristers. This purely ec- 
clesiastical body was in its turn suppressed in 1545, to make 
way for the grander foundation w^hich still flourishes under 
the name of Christ Church. Thus, after many vicissitudes, 
the venerable minister of St. Frideswyde, one of the few re- 
maining memorials of pre-academic Oxford, now serves as 

15 



226 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

and it was not entirely identified with "Wolsey's 
glory. The college at Ipswich fell into abeyance. 

Wolsey's design for Cardinal College was on a 
magnificent scale. He devised a large court sur- 
rounded by a cloister, with a spacious dining-hall 
on one side. The hall was the first building which 
he took in hand, and this fact is significant of his 
idea of academic life. He conceived a college as an 
organic society of men living in common, and by 
their intercourse generating and expressing a power- 
ful body of opinion. Contemporaries mocked and 
said, ' ' A fine piece of business ; this cardinal pro- 
jected a college and has built a tavern. ' ' They did 
not understand that Wolsey was not merely adding 
to the number of Oxford colleges, but was creating 
a society which should dominate the University, and 
be the center of a new intellectual movement. For 
this purpose Wolsey devised a foundation which 
should be at once ecclesiastical and civil, and should 
set forward his own conception of the relations be- 
tween the Church and the intellectual and social life 
of the nation. His foundation consisted of a dean, 
sixty canons, six professors, forty petty canons, 

\ 
the chapel of the largest college in the university and as the 
Cathedral church of the diocese. — See History of the Univer- 
sity of Oxford, by H. C, Maxwell Lyte, 



WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 227 

twelve chaplains, twelve clerks, and sixteen choris- 
ters ; and he proposed to fill it with men of his own 
choice, vfho would find there a fitting sphere for 
their energies. 

Wolsey was a man well adapted to hold the bal- 
ance between the old and the new learning. He 
had been trained in the theology of the schools, and 
was a student of St. Thomas Aquinas ; but he had 
learned by the training of life to understand the 
new ideas; he grasped their importance, and he 
foresaw their triumph. He was a friend of the 
band of English scholars who brought to Oxford the 
study of Greek, and he sympathized with the in- 
tellectual aspirations of Grocyn,* Colet, More, and 
Erasmus. Perhaps he rather sympathized than un- 
derstood ; but his influence was cast on their side 
when the opposition to the new learning broke out 
in the University and the Trojans waged a des- 
perate and at first a successful war against the 



* William Grocyn (1442?-1519) was a warm friend of Erasmus. 
About 1489 he went to Rome and studied the Greek language. 
Returning to England lie was appointed to the professorship 
of Greek in Oxford University, and was the first professor of 
that language in England. Sir Thomas More was one of his 
early pupils. Erasmus describes him as an incomparable man, 
and an accurate scholar, skilled in various branches of learn- 
ing. He publislied nothing and liis fame rests entirely on his 
lectures delivered in Oxford and Loudon. 



228 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

Greeks. The more ignorant among the clerical 
teachers objected to any widening of the old studies, 
and resented the substitution of biblical or patristic 
theology for the study of the schoolmen. They 
dreaded the effects of the critical method, and were 
not reassured when Grocyn, in a sermon at St. 
Paul's Cathedral, declared that the writings at- 
tributed to Dionysius the Areopagite ^ were spurious. 
A wave of obscurantism swejDt over Oxford, and, 
as Tyndale puts it, ^'the barking curs, Dun's dis- 
ciples, the children of darkness, raged in every 
pulpit against Greek, Latin, and Hebrew. ' ' 

Wolsey used the king's authority to rebuke the 
assailants of learning ; but the new teachers with- 
drew from Oxford, and Wolsey saw that if the 

• 

* Dionysius the Areopagite was a convert of the apostle 
Paul (see Acts xvii : 34) and was reputed to be the first 
bishop of Athens. The writings attributed to him emanated 
from an Alexandrian in the sixth century. The writings are 
the expression of the Neo-Platonism and Christian mysticism 
of the time. They gradually made their way in Europe, and 
in the middle ages exercised an incalculable influence in the 
Church. It the ninth century, John Scotns Erigena (Duns 
Scotus) translated these works into Lathi and in this tongue 
they were more accessible. "The Florentine Platonists of 
the fifteenth century studied them with ardor, as did the 
English humanists, Colet and Grocyn. Their influence is 
plainly traceable in Dante's Divine Comedy. The authenti- 
city of these writings is still maintained here and there, in 
spite of the overwhelming evidence to the contrary." 



WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 229 

new learning was to make way it must have a se- 
cure footing. Accordingly he set himself to get 
the universities into his power, and in 1517 pro- 
posed to found university lectureships in Oxford. 
Hitherto the teaching given in the universities had 
been voluntary; teachers arose and maintained 
themselves by a process of natural selection. Ex- 
cellent as such a system may seem, it did not lead 
to progress, and already the Lady Margaret, Coun- 
tess of Richmond, Henry YII.'s mother, had 
adopted the advice of Bishop Fisher, and founded 
divinity professorships in the two universities. 
"Wolsey wished to extend this system and organize 
an entire staff of teachers for university purposes. 
We do not know how far he showed his intention, 
but such was his influence that Oxford submitted its 
statutes to hmi for revision. Wolsey' s hands were 
too full of other work for him to undertake at once 
so delicate a matter ; but he meant undoubtedly to 
reorganize the system of university education, and 
for this purpose prevailed on Cambridge also to 
entrust its statutes to his hands. Again he had 
prepared the v/ay for a great undertaking, and had 
dexterously used his position to remove all obsta- 
cles, and prepare a field for the work of reconstruc- 
tion. Again he was prevented from carrying out 



230 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

Ms designs, and his educational reform was never 
actually made. "We can only trace Ms intentions 
in the fact that he brought to Oxford a learned 
Spaniard, Juan Luis Yives,"^ to lecture on rhetoric, 
and we may infer that he intended to provide both 
universities with a staif of teachers chosen from the 
first scholars of Europe. 

Another matter gives another indication of Wol- 
sey's desire to remove the grievances felt against 
the Church. If the monasteries were survivals of a 
time when the Church discharged the humanitarian 
duties of society, the ecclesiastical courts were in a 
like manner survivals of a time when the civil 
courts were not yet able to deal with ma.ny points 
which concerned the relations between man and 
man, or which regulated individual conduct. Thus 
marriage was a religions ceremony, and all ques- 
tions which arose from the marriage contract were 
decided in the ecclesiastical courts. Similarly 

* Juan Luis Vives (1492-1'540) studied at the university of 
Louvain and became professor of Latin in that institution. 
He went to England as tutor of princess Mary. When Henry 
was suing for divorce from Katharine, the suit was opposed 
by Vives who, for this offence was imprisoned. On his release 
he settled at Bruges, in Belgium, where he became the in- 
timate friend of Erasmus and Budssus, "The three have 
been called a triumvirate in the republic of letters, equally 
eminent for talents and learning." 



WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 231 

wills were recognized by the Church, as resting on 
the moral basis of mutual confidence, long before 
the State was prepared to acknowledge their valid- 
ity. Besides these cases which arose from contract, 
the Church exercised a disciplinary supervision over 
its members for the good of their souls, and to avoid 
scandals in a Christian community. On all these 
points the principles of the Church had leavened 
the conceptions of the State, and the civil jurisdic- 
tion had in many matters overtaken the ecclesias- 
tical. But the clerical courts stood stubbornly upon 
their claim to greater antiquity, and the activity of 
ecclesiastical lawyers found plenty of work to do. 
Disciplinary jurisdiction was unduly extended by a 
class of trained officials, and was resented bv the 
.growing independence of the rising middle class. 
]^o doubt the ecclesiastical courts needed reform, 
but the difficulties in the way of reforming legal 
procedure are always great. "VYolsey faced the 
problem in a way which is most characteristic of 
his statesmanship. He strove to bring the question 
to maturity for solution by getting the control of 
the ecclesiastical courts into his own hands. For 
this purpose he used his exceptional position as 
Papal Legate, and instituted a legatine court which 
should supersede the ordinary jurisdiction. Natur- 



232 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

ally enough this brought him into collision with 
Archbishop Warham, and his fall prevented him 
from developing his policy. His attempt only left 
the ecclesiastical courts in worse confusion, and 
added to the strength of the opposition, which soon 
robbed them of most of their powers. It added 
also to Wolsey's unpopularity, and gave a shadow 
of justice to the unworthy means which were used 
for his destruction. 

In fact, wherever we look, we see that in domes- 
tic affairs "Wolsey had a clear conception of the ob- 
jects to be immediately pursued by a conservative 
reformer. But a conservative reformer raises as 
much hostility as does a revolutionist, for the mass 
of men are not sufficiently foreseeing or sufficiently 
disinterested willingly to abandon profitable abuses. 
They feel less animosity against the open enemy 
who aims avowedly at their destruction, than 
against the seeming friends, who would deprive 
them of what they consider to be their rights. The 
clergy submitted more readily to the abolition of 
their privileges by the king than they would have 
submitted to a reform at the hands of Wolsey. 
They could understand the one; they could not 
understand the other. This was natural, for Wolsey 
had no lofty principles to set before them ; he had 



WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 238 

only the wisdom of a keensighted statesman, who 
read the signs of the times. Indeed he did not 
waste his time in trying to persuade others to see 
with his eyes. He could not have ventured to 
speak out and say that the Church must choose 
between the tender mercies of the royal power and 
submission to the discretion of one who, standing 
between the king and the Pope, was prepared to 
throw a semblance of ecclesiastical recognition over 
reforms which were inevitable. It is clear that 
Wolsey was working for the one possible com- 
promise, and he hoped to effect it by his own 
dexterity. Secure of the royal favor, secure through 
his political importance of the papal acquiescence 
in the use which he made of his legatine power, 
standing forward as the chief ecclesiastic in Eng- 
land, he aimed at accomplishing such reforms as 
would have brought into harmon}^ the relations be- 
tween Church and State. He did not hope to do 
this by persuasion, but by power, and had taken 
steps to lay his hand cautiously on different parts 
of the ecclesiastical organization. With this idea 
before him we may safely acquit Wolsey of any 
undue ambition for the papal office; he doubted 
whether his influence would be increased or not by 
its possession. 



234 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

In everything that Wolsey did he played for the 
highest stakes, and risked all upon the hope of ulti- 
mate success. He trusted to justify himself in the 
long-run, and was heedless of the opposition which 
he called forth. Besting solely upon the royal 
favor, he did not try to conciliate, nor did he pause 
to explain. Men could not understand his ends, 
but they profoundly disliked his means. The sup- 
pression of small monasteries, which might be use- 
less but served to provide for ^^ounger sons or 
dependants of country families, was very unpopular, 
as coming from a cardinal who enjoyed the revenues 
of many ecclesiastical offices whose duties he did 
not discharge. The setting up of a legatine court 
was hateful to the national sentiment of English- 
men, who saw in it only another engine of ecclesi- 
astical oppression. The pomp and magnificence 
wherewith "Wolsey asserted a greatness which he 
mainly valued as a means of doing his country ser- 
vice, was resented as the vulgar arrogance of an 
upstart. Wolsey' s ideas were too great to pay any 
heed to the prejudices of Englishm_en which, after 
all, have determined the success of all English min- 
isters, and which no English statesman has ever been 
powerful enough to disregard. 



CHAPTEE IX. 



THE king's DIVOKCB. 



1527-1529. 



If Wolsey hoped that the peace with France, 
which he had so successfully concluded in the begin- 
ning of 1527, would enable him to reassert Eng- 
land's influence on the Continent, and would give 
him an opportunity for the work of domestic re- 
form, he was sorely disappointed. A new matter 
arose, not entirely unexpected, but which widened 
into unexpected issues, and consumed "Wolsey's 
energies till it led to his fall. The project of the 
king's divorce was suddenly mooted; and this per- 
sonal matter, before it was ripe for settlement, 
gradually drew into its sphere all the questions con- 
cerning England's foreign and domestic policy 
which Wolsey's statesmanship had been trying to 
solve by wise and well-considered means. Wolsey 
had been gathering into his hands the threads of a 
complicated policy, each one of which required dex- 
terous handling, in accordance with a great design. 

He found himself suddenly called upon to act pre- 

235 



236 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

cipitately for the accomplishment of a small matter, 
which brought all the difficulties of his position 
prominently forward, and gave him no time for that 
skilful diplomacy in which he excelled. Moreover, 
when the project was started neither Henry nor 
Wolsey could have foreseen the complications which 
would arise ; still less could Wolsey have known the 
obstinacy which the faintest opposition to the royal 
will would develop in the king, or the extent to 
which he could persuade himself that the satisfac- 
tion of the royal pleasure was the sole purpose of 
the existence of the power of the State. At first 
Henry had sympathized with Wolsey 's far-reaching 
schemes. Latterly he had at all events been willing 
to allow Wolsey to have his own way on the whole. 
The time came when he showed himself a hard task- 
master, and demanded that Wolsey should at all 
costs satisfy his personal desires in a matter which 
he persuaded hunself was all-important to the nation 
at large. 

Yiewed according to the general notions of the 
time, there was nothing very surprising in the fact 
that Henry YIII. should wish for a divorce. 
Royal marriages were made and unmade from mo- 
tives of expediency ; it was only a question of ob- 
taining a decent plea. The sons of Katharine had 



THE KING'S DIVORCE. 237 

died in infancy, and Mary was the only heir of the 
English throne; it was a matter of importance to 
the future of England that the succession to the 
throne should be clearly established. If Henry had 
remained attached to his wife this consideration 
would not have been put forward ; but Henry was 
never famed for constancy. He was in the prime 
of life, while Katharine was over forty.* He had 
developed in character, not for the better, while she 
remained true to the narrow traditions of her early 
training. She was an excellent housewife, con- 
scientious, decorous, and capable ; but . she was 
devoted to the political interests of Spain, and 
admired her nephew Charles. While the imperial 
alliance was warmly pursued by Henry she was 
happy; when Henry's zeal for Charles began to 
fade she felt offended, and was not judicious in the 
display of her political bias. Henry was more and 
more annoyed by his wife's discontent, and the 
breach between them rapidly widened. When 
Henry broke with Charles and allied himself with 
France he seems to have felt that his domestic peace 
was at an end, and he was not the man to shrink 
from the effort to re-establish it upon another basis. 
Perhaps none of these considerations would have 
* Henry was about six years younger than Katharine. 



238 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

moved Henry to take prompt action if his desires 
had not been kindled by a new object of his affec- 
tion. He had not been a faithful husband, and 
Katharine seems to have been indulgent to his in- 
fidelities. In the course of 1526 he was captivated 
by the charms of Anne Boleyn, as he had formerly 
been captivated by her sister Mary. But Anne 
had learned that the king was fickle, and she 
resolved that she would not be so easily won as to 
be lightly abandoned. She skilfully managed to 
make herself agreeable to the king ^ till his passion 
for her became so violent that he was prepared to 
accept her terms and make her his lawful wife. 

Wolsey was not in favor of this plan ; but he was 
not opposed to getting rid of the political influence 
of Katharine, and he believed that the king's fancy 
for Anne Boleyn would rapidly pass away. What- 
ever his own personal opinion might be, he did not 
venture to gainsay the king in a matter on which he 
was resolved, and he lent himself to be an instru- 
ment in a matter which involved him in measures 
which became more and more discreditable. The 
first idea of the king was to declare his marriage 
with Katharine unlawful, on the ground that 
she had previously been his brother's wife; but 
he was cognizant of that when he married her 



THE KING'S DIVORCE. 239 

and had applied for a papal dispensation to remedy 
that source of invalidity. Doubtless some plea 
might be discovered to enable the' Pope to set 
aside the dispensation granted bv his predecessor. 
But whatever technical grounds might be used to 
justify the Pope's decision in the king's favor, the 
Pope could not be expected to act in such a manner 
as to offend the Powers of Europe and shock the 
moral sense of Englishmen. Wolsey did not hide 
from himself that there were three hindrances in the 
way of legalizing the king's divorce. The opinion 
of England was not in its favor ; Charles Y . was 
likely to resent the affront which it would put upon 
his aunt, and the Pope could not afford to alienate 
one who was becoming all-powerful in Italy that he 
might win the distant friendship of the English 
king ; Francis I. had just made a treaty with Henry 
YIIL , by which the hand of Mary had been prom- 
ised to his son, and he was not likely to wish to 
see Mary declared to be illegitimate. These were 
serious elements of opposition, which it would re- 
quire considerable skill to overcome. 

The first measure which suggested itself to Henry 
and "Wolsey was to put the king's plea into shape, 
and endorse it with the authority of the English 
Church. For this purpose a suit was secretly insti- 



240 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

tuted against the king in Wolsey's legatine court. 
Henry was solemnly informed that a complaint had 
been made to Wolsey, as censor of public morals, 
that he had cohabited for eighteen years with his 
brother's wife. Henry consented that Archbishop 
"Warham should be joined with Wolsey as assessor, 
and named a proctor who should plead his cause. 
Three sessions of this court were held with the pro- 
f oundest secrecy in May ; but in spite of all the at- 
tempts at secrecy the imperial ambassador discovered 
what was going on. The object of this procedure 
seems to have been to produce a sentence from the 
legate's court in England which should be con- 
firmed by the Pope without right of appeal. If the 
Pope had been a free agent he might conceivably 
have adopted this course ; but the news soon reached 
England that Rome had been sacked by Bourbon, 
and that the Pope was trembling before Charles Y. 
In this turn of affairs it was useless to proceed 
farther on the supposition that he would unhesitat- 
ingly comply with the wishes of Henry and Wolsey. 
A court sitting in secret would have no influence on 
English opinion, and Wolsey proposed that its sit- 
tings should be suspended, and the opinions of the 
English bishops be taken as a means of educating 
public opinion. 



THE KING'S DIVORCE. 241 

But Katharine had been informed of the king's 
intentions concerning her, and showed a purpose of 
defending her rights. It would be very awkward 
if she were the first to make the matter public, and 
were to appeal to the Pope or her kinsman Charles. 
The question would then become a political ques- 
tion, and Henry was not prepared with allies. So 
on 2 2d June the king broached his difficulties to 
Katharine. He told her of his scruples, and of his 
intentions of submitting them to the decision of can- 
onists and theologians ; meanwhile they had better 
live apart. Katharine burst into tears, and the king 
vaguely tried to assure her that all was being done 
for the best, and begged her to keep the matter 
secret. His only object was to prevent her from 
taking any open steps till he had assured himself of 
the countenance of the French king to his plans. 
For this purpose Wolsey was sent on an embassy, 
ostensibly to settle some questions raised by the 
French treaty, really to concert with Francis I. a 
scheme for bringing to bear upon the Pope a pres- 
sure which should be strong enough to counteract 
the influence of Charles Y. 

So, on 3d July, Wolsey left London on his last 

diplomatic mission. Men who saw Wolsey set out 

with more than his accustomed state, escorted by 
i6 



242 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

nine hundred horsemen, thought, doubtless, that 
the cardinal's greatness was as high as ever; but 
those who watched more closely saw him in the 
splendid ceremonial of the Church of Canterbury 
' ' weep very tenderly, ' ' for his mind was ill at ease. 
He must have felt that he was going to use his tal- 
ents for a bad end, and that all patriotism and no- 
bility had vanished from his aim. On his way to 
Dover he had a conference with Archbishop War- 
ham, whom he instructed about the conduct to be 
observed towards the queen. Then at Kochester 
he sounded Bishop Fisher,* the most holy and up- 
right of the English bishops, who had already been 
asked by Katherine to give her counsel, though, she 
had not ventured to tell him what was the subject 

* John Fisher (1459?-1535) was educated at Cambridge, 
where he subsequently held several important offices. In 
1503 he was appointed, by the Countess of Richmond, pro- 
fessor of divinity in the two universities (see above, p. 145). 
From this time he rose rapidly to distinction. Though he 
was courteous and deferential to Wolsey, yet, " being a man 
of strict life," he •' hated Wolsey for his vices." He was in 
sympathy with the spirit of the new learning and with the 
then modern biblical criticism, and he lent his influence to 
promote the scholarly work of Erasmus. His native con- 
servatism, which increased as he grew older, made him hostile 
to the teachings of Luther, against whom he preached and 
wrote. He incurred the hatred of Henry VIII. in opposing 
the doctrine of supremacy, refusing to recognize the validity 
of the decree of divorce of Katharine, and in standing out 
against the Act of Supremacy passed in 1534. He was then 



THE KING'S DIVORCE. 243 

on which she wished for his advice. So Wolsey 
told his own story ; that the king's conscience was 
disquiet, and that he wished to have his scruples set 
at rest by the opinions of learned men. He repre- 
sented that Katharine by her hastiness was throw- 
ing difficulties in the way of the king's considerate 
procedure, and threatened to publish the matter, 
and so create an open scandal. Fisher believed 
Wolsey's tale, and was beguiled into a belief of the 
king's good intentions, which the queen could not 
understand. About the validity of Henry's mar- 
riage Wolsey could not get from Fisher an opinion 
contrary to the authority of a papal dispensation ; 
but he contrived to alienate Fisher from sympathy 
with Katharine, and so left the queen without a 
friend while he proceeded to machinate against her 
in France. 

"We have from one of Wolsey's attendants, George 
Cavendish, his gentleman- usher, a full account of 
Wolsey's journey in France. On one point he gives 
us valuable insight into Wolsey's character where 

subjected to relentless persecution which ended in his death, 
which was plainly a case of judicial murder. He was be- 
headed June 22d, 1535, juft two weeks before the execution 
of More, and his head was exposed to view on London Bridge. 
More said of him that " in this realm no one man in wisdom, 
learning, and long approved vertue together, mete to be 
matched and compared with him." 



244 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. ' 

"Wolsey has been much, misrepresented. He tells us 
how at Calais he summoned his attendants and ad- 
dressed them about their behavior. He explained 
that the services which he required from them were 
not personal but official, and his words were those 
of a statesman who understood, but did not over- 
estimate, the value of external things. ^'Ye shall 
understand," he said, ''that the king's majesty, 
upon certain weighty considerations, hath for the 
more advancement of his royal dignity assigned me 
in this journey to be his lieutenant-general, and 
what reverence belongeth to the same I will tell 
you. That for my part I must, by virtue of my 
commission of lieutenantship, assume and take upon 
me, in all honors and degrees, to have all such ser- 
vice and reverence as to his highness' s presence is 
meet and due, and nothing thereof to be neglected 
or omitted by me that to his royal estate is appur- 
tenant. And for my part, ye shall see me that I 
will not omit one jot thereof." Then he added 
some wise advice about the courtesies to be observed 
in their intercourse with the French. 

When matters of etiquette had thus been arranged, 
Wolsey rode out of Calais on 2 2d July, and pursued 
his journey to Abbeville, where he awaited the ar- 
rival of Francis I. at Amiens. On 4th August he 



THE KING'S DIVORCE. 245 

entered Amiens, and was received with royal honors. 
His interviews Avhich Francis and the queen-mother 
were most satisfactory on matters of general policy : 
the English alliance was firmly accepted, and all 
questions between the two Crowns were in a fair 
way towards settlement. Wolsey waited till the 
political alliance was firmly established before he 
broached the personal matter of the divorce. 
Meanwhile he meditated on the schemes which might 
be pursued by the allied kings to satisfy Henry's 
desires. He proposed that they should join in de- 
manding from Charles Y. that he should restore the 
Pope's independence, in the hope that the Pope 
when freed from constraint would be willing to 
show his gratitude by complying with Henry's de- 
mands. If they failed in procuring the Pope's re- 
lease, they should declare the papal power to be in 
abeyance, and summon the cardinals to meet at 
Avignon, where, under Wolsey' s presidency, they 
should transact such business as the Pope in his cap- 
tivity was unable to discharge. 

Either of these methods was technically decorous ; 
but they did not much commend themselves to Henry 
YIIL, whose passion for Anne Boleyn daily in- 
creased, and who was impatient of any procedure 
that involved delay. So Henr^^ listened coldly to 



246 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

Wolsey's proposals for a "■ sure, honorable, and 
safe" termination of the "king's matter," as 
the divorce was now called : he wished for a '' good 
and brief conclusion," and gave ear to the advice 
of Anne Boleyn and her friends. It was easy for 
them to point out that Wolsey was an old-fashioned 
statesman, full of prejudice where the Church was 
concerned. They urged that the king could do bet- 
ter for himself, and could deal more expeditiously 
with the Pope than could a churchman who was 
bound to adopt a humble attitude towards his eccle- 
siastical superior. So Henry determined to take 
the matter into his own hands, and send his secretary 
Knight to negotiate with the Pope without Wolsey's 
intervention. 

"Wolsey, meanwhile, in ignorance of the King's 
intentions, but distressed at the difficulties which he 
foresaw, followed the French Court to Compiegne, 
where he divided his time between diplomatic con- 
flicts, festivities, and the despatch of business. One 
morning. Cavendish tells us, '' He rose early about 
four of the clock, sitting down to write letters into 
England unto the king, commanding one of his chap- 
lains to prepare him to mass, insomuch that the said 
chaplain stood revested until four of the clock at 
afternoon ; all which season my lord never rose once 



THE KING'S DIVORCE. 247 

even to eat any meat, but continually wrote his let- 
ters, with his own hands, having all that time his 
nightcap and kerchief on his head. And about the 
hour of four of the clock, at afternoon, he made an 
end. of writing, and commanded one Christopher 
Gunner, the king's servant, to prepare him without 
delay to ride empost into England with his letters, 
whom he despatched away or ever he drank. And 
that done he went to mass, and said his other divine 
service with his chaplain, as he was accustomed to 
do ; and then went straight into a garden ; and after 
he had walked the space of an hour or more, and 
said his evensong, he went to dinner and supper all 
at once ; and making a small repast, he went to his 
bed, to take his rest for the night. ' ' 

While Wolsey was thus laboring in this thorny 
matter, he received a visit from Knight on his way 
to Rome. Knight's instructions were to demand 
from the Pope a dispensation for Henry to marry 
again before the divorce from Katharine had been 
pronounced ; failing this, to marry immediately after 
his marriage with Katharine was declared invalid. 
Further, he was to ask the Pope to issue a bull 
delegating his spiritual authority to Cardinal Wolsey 
during his captivity, l^o doubt this was an expedi- 
tious way to cut existing difficulties ; but it was too 



248 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

expeditious to suit the traditions of the Papal Court, 
Its obvious clumsiness showed that it was not the 
work of Wolsey's hand; and it was unwise for the 
king to inform the Pope that he was trying to act 
without Wolsey's knowledge. 

Though Wolsey was left in ignorance of the 
nature of Knight's instructions, he could not but 
suspect that the king was acting without his full 
knowledge. He finished his work at Compiegne 
and returned to England at the end of September. 
He at once repaired to the Court at Richmond, and 
sent to tell the king of his arrival. Hitherto the 
king had always retired to a private room when he 
received the cardinal alone. ISTow Anne Boleyn 
was with the king in the great hall, and scarcely 
had Wolsey's message been delivered than she broke 
in, ' ' Where else should the cardinal come than 
here where the king is? " The king confirmed 
her command, and Wolsey found himself ushered 
into the hall, where Henry sat amusing himself 
with Anne and his favorites. Serious talk was out 
of the question. Wolsey was no longer first in the 
king's confidence. He went away feeling that 
Anne Boleyn was his political rival, whom he could 
only overcome by serving better than she could 
serve herself. Henceforth he had two masters in- 



THE KING'S DIVORCE. 24^ 

stead of one, and he did not deceive himself that 
the continuance of his power depended solely on 
his usefulness in the matter of the divorce. 

As Wolsey showed himself compliant, Anne 
Boleyn treated him graciously while she waited to 
hear the result of Knight's mission to Rome. It 
was not easy for him to enter the city, which was 
in possession of the Spaniards, and when he entered 
it he could not hold any personal communication 
with Clement YII., who was shut up in the Castle 
of St. Angelo. On 9th December Clement escaped 
to Orvieto, where Knight soon joined him, and 
showed his incapacity for the work which had been 
confided to him by revealing to the papal officials 
the whole details of the matter, which he ought to 
have kept secret. Clement saw at once the value 
of Henr3^'s conscientious scruples, and learned that 
he was moved solely by a desire to marry Anne 
Boleyn, a connection which could not be excused 
by any paramount reasons of political expediency. 
However anxious the Pope might be to oblige the 
English king, there were limits to his complacency, 
and Knight had not the wits to cast a fair appear- 
ance over a disgraceful matter. Yet Clement did 
not wish to offend Henry by refusing his request 
at once. The demand for a dispensation empower- 



250 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

ing the king to marry at once had abeady been 
dropped at Wolsey's instance. Knight carried with 
him a form of dispensation allowing Henry to marry 
as soon as his marriage with Katharine was dis- 
solved. This form was amended by one of the car- 
dinals, and was signed by the Pope. Knight 
started back to England, convinced that he had 
done his business excellently, and was bearing to 
the king the permission which he desired. 

"When the docmnents were placed in Wolsey's hands 
he saw at once that they were worthless. What 
Henry wanted was permission for Wolsey to decide 
the question in the Pope's behalf, and permission 
for himself to act at once as soon as Wolsey's de- 
cision was pronounced. The documents which he 
received did not bar Katharine's right of appeal ; 
consequently "Wolsey's decision would be of no 
effect, and the king could not lawfully marry again 
pending the appeal. In fact, the Pope reserved 
the entu'e decision of the matter in his own hand. 

It was a small matter for Wolsey to triumph over 
a man like Knight ; but Knight's failure showed 
Henry and Anne Boleyn that they must put their 
confidence in Wolsey after all. So in February, 
1528, "Wolsey had to begin again from the begin- 
ning, and had to undo the mischief which I^ight's 



THE KING'S DIVORCE. 251 

bungling had made. He chose as his agents his secre- 
tary, Stephen Gardiner,* and Edward Foxe, one of 
the king's chaplains. They were instructed to ask 
that the Pope would join with "Wolsey some special 
legate, and give them power to pronounce a final 
judgment. For this purpose they were to plead 
Henry's cause with all earnestness, and say that the 
king was moved only by the scruples of his con- 
science ; at the same time they w^ere to praise the 
virtues of Anne Boleyn, and say that the king was 

* Stephen Gardiner (1483?-1555) whose talents made him 
always prominent, and whose career extended through the 
reigns of Henry VIII., and Edward VI., and into that of 
Bloody Mary, experienced many reverses of fortune. Under 
Henry he was in high favor, and under Edward he was 
thrown into tlie tower where he was confined for five years. 
He was an extreme Catholic and an enemy of Cranmer, 
whom he tried unsuccessfully to convict of heresy, and he 
took a leading part in the proceedings that led to the burning 
of Bradford and Rogers. He held to the validity of the 
marriage of Henry VIII. to Katharine, and consequently to 
the illegitimacy of Elizabeth. *'His whole treatment of 
Elizabeth remains oneof tlie most sinister features of his later 
career," writes Mullinger. Froude says that "there was 
something in Gardiner's character which was not wholly 
execrable. For thirty years he worked unweariedly in the 
service of the public ; his judgment as a member of the 
council was generally excellent. . . . He was vindictive, 
ruthless, treacherous; but his courage was indomitable." 
His ecclesiastical office was Bishop of Winchester, to whose 
magnificent building he added a beautiful chantry. He died 
at an advanced age of the gout, and was buried in Winchester 
Cathedral. 



252 Life of thomas wolsey. 

solely moved by considerations of his duty to his 
country in his desire to marry her. Further, they 
were to insist on the dishonor which would be done 
to the Holy See if the Pope, through fear of Charles 
Y., were to refuse to do justice. If the king could 
not obtain justice from the Pope he would be com- 
pelled to seek it elsewhere, and live outside the 
laws of Holy Church; and however reluctant, he 
would be driven to this for the quiet of his con- 
science. 

Truly these pleas were sorely contradictory. 
Henry was ready to acknowledge to the fullest ex- 
tent the papal power of granting dispensations, and 
was ready to submit to the justice of the Pope as 
the highest justice upon earth. But this was solely 
on condition that the Pope gave decision according 
to his wishes. He regarded the Papacy as an ex- 
cellent institution so long as it was on his own side. 
If it refused to see the justice of his pleas, then he 
fell back as strenuously as did Luther on the neces- 
sity of satisfj^ing his own conscience, and to do so 
he was ready, if need were, to break with the 
Church. Truly the movement in Germany had 
affected public opinion more than vfas supposed 
when Wolsey could hold such language to the Pope. 
He did not know what a terrible reality that curious 



THE KING'S DIVORCE. 253 

conscience of Henry would become. His words 
were a truer prophecy than he dreamed. 

However, this line of argument was stubbornly 
pursued by Gardiner even in the Pope's presence. 
Clement at Orvieto was not surrounded by the pomp 
and splendor customary to his office. The English 
envoys found him in a little room, seated on a 
wooden bench which was covered with ''an old 
coverlet not worth twenty pence. ' ' But he did not 
see his way to a restoration of his dignity by an un- 
hesitating compliance with the demands of the Eng- 
lish king; on the other hand, the mere fact that his 
fortunes had sunk so low demanded greater circum- 
spection. He was not likely to escape from depend- 
ence on Charles Y. by making himself the tool of 
Francis I. and Henry YIII. ; such a proceeding 
would only lead to the entire destruction of the 
papal authority. Its restoration must be achieved 
by holding the balance between the opposing 
Powers of Europe, and Plenry YIII. 's desire for a 
divorce gave the Pope an opportunity of showing 
that he was still a personage of some importance. 
Dynastic questions still depended on his decree, and 
he could use Henry's application as a means of 
showing Charles that he had something to fear from 
the Papacy, and that it was his policy to make the 



254: LIFE OF THOMAS WOI.SEY. 

Papacy friendly to himself. So Clement resolved 
to adopt a congenial course of temporizing, in the 
hope that he might see his advantage in some turn 
of affairs. No doubt he thought that Henry's 
matter would soon settle itself ; either his passion 
for Anne Boleyn would pass away, or he would 
make her his mistress. The stubbornness of Henry, 
his strange hold upon formal morality while pur- 
suing an immoral course of conduct, his imperious 
self-will, which grew by opposition — these were 
incalculable elements which might have upset the 
plans of wiser men than Clement YII. 

So the Pope acted the part of the good simple 
man who wishes to do what is right. He lamented 
his own ignorance, and proposed to consult those 
who were more learned in canon law than himself. 
When Gardiner said that England asked nothing 
but justice, and if it were refused would be driven 
to think that God had taken away from the Holy 
See the key of knowledge, and would begin to 
adopt the opinion of those who thought that pontif- 
ical laws, which were not clear to the Pope him- 
self, might well be committed to the flames, Cle- 
ment sighed, and suggested a compromise. Then 
he added, with a smile, that though canonists said 
<' the Pope has all laws in the cabinet of his breast," 



THE KING'S DIVORCE. 255 

yet God had not given him the key to open that 
cabinet ; he could only consult his cardinals. 

Gardiner's outspoken remonstrances were useless 
against one who pleaded an amiable incompetence. 
Against the churnings of Henry's conscience Clement 
set up the churnings of his own conscience, and no 
one could gainsay the Pope's right to a conscience 
as much as the English king. After pursuing this 
course during the month of March the Pope at 
length with sighs and tears devised a compromise, 
in which he feared that he had outstepped the 
bounds of discretion. He accepted one of the docu- 
ments which the English envoys had brought, the 
permission for the king to marry whom he would as 
soon as his marriage with Katharine had been dis- 
solved. He altered the terms of the other docu- 
ment, which provided for the appointment of a com- 
mission with plenary powers to pronounce on the 
validity of the king's marriage; he granted the 
commission, but did not give it plenary power ; at 
the same time he chose as the commissioner who was 
to sit with Wolsey Cardinal Campeggio, who was 
the protector of England in the Papal Court, and 
who was rewarded for his services by holding the 
bishopric of Hereford. In this way he showed 
every mark of goodwill to Henry short of acquies- 



^56 LI^E OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

cing entirely in the procedure which he proposed ; 
but he kept the final decision of the matter in his 
own hands. 

Gardiner was not wholly pleased with this result 
of his skill and firmness : after all his efforts to ob- 
tain a definite solution the Pope had managed to es- 
cape from giving any binding promise. Still, Foxe 
put a good face on Gardiner's exploits when he re- 
turned to England in the end of April. Henry and 
Anne Boleyn were delighted, and Wolsey, though 
he was more dissatisfied than Gardiner, thought it 
best to be hopeful. He tried to bind the Pope more 
firmly, and instructed Gardiner to press that the 
law relating to Henry's case should be laid down in 
a papal decretal, so that the legates should only have 
to determine the question of fact ; this decretal he 
promised to keep entirely secret; besides this, he 
urged that there should be no delay in sending Cam- 
peggio. 

During these months of expectancy "Wolsey conde- 
scended to ingratiate himself with Anne Boleyn, 
who had become a political personage of the first 
importance. Anne was sure of Wolsey's devotion 
to her interests so long as they were also the king's, 
and could not dispense with "Wolsey's skill. So she 
was kindly, and wrote friendly letters to "Wolsey, 



THE KING'S DIVORCE. 257 

and asked for little gifts of tunny-fish and shrimps. 
The English Court ag?an resembled an amiable 
family party, whose members were all of one mind. 
In the course of the summer they were all thrown 
into terror by an outbreak of the " Sweating Sick- 
ness, ' ' Avhich devastated the country. Anne Boleyn 
was attacked, though not severely; and Henry 
showed that his devotion to her did not proceed to 
the length of risking his own precious life for her 
sake. He fled to Waltham, and Anne was left with 
her father ; Henry protested by letter his unalter- 
able affection, but kept out of harm's way till all 
risk of infection was past. At the same time he 
showed great solicitude for Wolsey's health, as did 
also Anne Bolejm. It seemed as though A¥olsey 
were never more useful or more hio^hlv esteemed. 

Yet, strangely enough, this outbreak of the plague 
drew upon Wolsey the most significant lesson which 
he had yet received of his own real position and of 
Henry's resoluteness to brook no check upon his 
royal will. Amongst others who perished in the 
sickness was the Abbess of Wilton, and Anne Boleyn 
wished that the vacant office should be given to one 
of the nuns of the abbey, Eleanor Carey, sister of 
William Carey, who had married Anne's sister 
Mary. Wolsey was informed of the wishes of Anne 
1/ 



258 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

and of the king on this point ; but on examination 
found that Eleanor's life and character were not 
such as to fit her for the ofiice. He therefore pro- 
posed to confer it on the prioress, Isabella Jordan. 
It would seem, however, that Eleanor's friends were 
determined to efface in some degree the scandal 
which their unwise haste had occasioned, and they 
retaliated by spreading reports injurious to the char- 
acter of the prioress. "Wolsey did not believe these 
reports ; but Anne Boleyn and the king agreed that 
if their nominee was to be set aside, the cardinal's 
nominee should be set aside likewise, and Wolsey 
was informed of the king's decision. Perhaps Wol- 
sey failed to understand the secret motives which 
were at work ; perhaps he had so far committed 
himself before receiving the king's message that he 
could not well go back ; perhaps he conscientiously 
did what he thought right. Anyhow, he appointed 
Isabella Jordan, and sent her appointment to the 
king for confirmation ; further, he gave as his ex- 
cuse that he had not understood the king's will in 
the matter. 

To his extreme surprise and mortification the king 
took the opportunity thus afforded of reading him a 
lecture on his presumption, and reminding him that 
he was expected to render implicit obedience. 



THE KING'S DIVORCE. 259 

Matters were no longer arranged between Henry 
and. Wolsey alone ; Anne Boleyn was a third party, 
and the king's pride was engaged in showing her 
that his word was laAv. When Henry took his pen 
in hand he assumed the mantle of royal dignity, 
and he now gave Wolsey a sample of the royal way 
of putting things which was so effectual in his later 
dealings with his Parliament. He began by assur- 
ing "Wolsey that the great love he bore him led him 
to apply the maxim, ' ' Whom I love I chasten ; ' ' 
he spoke therefore not in displeasure but for Wol- 
sey 's good. He could not but be displeased that 
Wolsey had acted contrary to his orders ; he was 
the more displeased that Wolsey had pleaded igno- 
rance as an excuse for his disobedience. He over- 
whelmed him with quotations from his letters on 
the subject, and went on, " Ah, my lord, it is a 
double offence both to do ill and color it too ; but 
with men that have wit it cannot be accepted so. 
Wherefore, good my lord, use no more that wa}'' 
with me, for there is no man living that more hateth 
it. ' ' He then went on to tell Wolsey that there were 
many rumors current about the means which he was 
employing to raise money from religious houses for 
the foundation of his new colleges ; he told him this 
because '' I dare be bolder with you than many that 



260 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

mumble it abroad. ' ' He showed that he had not 
forgotten the refusal of the monasteries to help in 
the Amicable Grant : why should they now give 
money to Wolsey unless they had some interested 
motive in doing so? He advised Wolsey to look 
closely into the matter, and ended, "I pray you, 
my lord, think not that it is upon any displeasure 
that I write this unto you. For surely it is for my 
discharge afore God, being in the room that I am 
in ; and secondly, for the great zeal I bear unto you, 
not undeserved on your behalf. Wherefore, I pray 
you, take it so ; and I assure you, your fault ac- 
knowledged, there shall remain in me no spark of 
displeasure ; trusting hereafter you shall recompense 
that with a thing much more acceptable to me. ' ' 

This letter came upon Wolsey as a sudden revela- 
tion of his true position. It showed him the reality 
of all the vague doubts and fears which he had for 
some time been striving to put from him. He was 
crushed into abjectness, which he did not even strive 
to conceal from others. He took the immediate 
matters of complaint seriously to heart, and wished 
to annul the appointment of Isabella Jordan, which 
the king ruled to be unnecessary ; on that point he 
was satisfied with having asserted a principle. But 
he advised Wolsey to receive no more gifts for his 



THE KING'S DIVORCE. 2C1 

colleges from religious houses, and Wolsey promised 
not to do so. " Thereby I trust, nor by any other 
thing hereafter unlawfully taken, your poor cardi- 
nal's conscience shall not be spotted, encumbered, 
or entangled; purposing, with God's help and your 
gracious favor, so to order the rest of my poor life 
that it shall appear to your Highness that I love and 
dread God and also your Majesty." This was a 
lamentable prostration of the moral authority of the 
chief churchman in England before the king, and 
showed Wolsey's weakness. He knew that he had 
not demeaned himself as befitted his priestly office ; 
and though he may have felt that no man in Eng- 
land had less right than the king to reprove his con- 
duct on moral grounds, still he could not plead that 
he w^as above reproach. In the particular matter of 
which he was accused — extorting money from the 
religious houses in return for immunities granted in 
virtue of his legatine power — there is no evidence 
that Wolsey was guilty. But he could not say that 
he had a conscience void of offence ; he had acted 
throughout his career as a statesman and a man of 
the world. If the king chose to hold him up to 
moral reprobation he had no valid defence to ofier. 
He had disregarded the criticisms of others that he 
might serve the king more faithfully; but if the 



262 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

king took upon himself the office of critic he had 
nothing to urge. It was because Henry had taken 
the measure of churchmen such as Wolsey that he 
ventured in later times to hold such lofty language 
in addressing the clergy. Henry was always su- 
perior to the weakness of imagining that his own 
conduct needed any defence, or his own motives 
any justification. 

"Wolsey, though forgiven with royal graciousness, 
was profoundly depressed, and could not recover his 
sense of security. The future was to him big with 
menaces, and perhaps he looked most sadly upon his 
designs which yet remained unrealized. He saw 
that his activity must henceforth work in a smaller 
sphere, and that he must make haste to finish what 
he had on hand. The ugly business of the divorce 
looked to him still uglier. Either he would fail 
in his efforts to move the Pope, in which case he 
lost his hold upon the king at once, or, if he suc- 
ceeded, he saw that the reign of Anne Boleyn 
meant the end of his own uncontested influence. 
The king's letter was at least significant of that : he 
would never have raised a question about so trivial 
a matter if he had not wished to justify his abso- 
lute power in the eyes of one who was to him all- 
important. 



THE KING'S DIVORCE. 263 

So "Wolsey faced the future ; he put his aspira- 
tions on a lower level, and wished only to garner 
certainly some of the fruits of his life-long labor. 
He told the French ambassador, De Bellay, " that 
if God permitted him to see the hatred of these 
two nations (France and England) extinguished, and 
firm amity established, as he hopes it will shortly 
be, with a reform of the laws and customs of the 
country, such as he would effect if peace were 
made, and the succession of the kingdom assured, 
especially if this marriage took place, and an heir 
male were born of it, he would at once retire, and 
serve God for the rest of his life ; and that, with- 
out any doubt, on the first honorable occasion he 
could find, he would give up politics. ' ' Doubtless 
Wolsey was genuine in these utterances, and felt 
that he was resigning much when he reduced his de- 
signs within the limits which he here set forth. 
But limited as they were, they still contained an 
entire scheme for the reconstruction of English poli- 
tics. Wolsey 's plans remained complete, however 
much he might be willing to reduce them ; he was 
incapable of being a mere attendant upon chance. 

For the present he was awaiting with growing 
anxiety the coming of Cardinal Campeggio, which 
was delayed, according to the Pope's policy of pro- 



264 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

crastination. First the cardinal had to contend 
against the difficulties created by the disorderly 
state of Italy ; then he was delayed by an attack 
of the gout, which made his movements slow ; and 
he did not reach London till 8th October. When 
he came he was not prepared to act at once, nor 
did he treat Wolsey as an equal but rather as a 
subordinate in the work of the commission. In 
fact, Campeggio behaved as judge, and Wolsey as 
the king's advocate. Campeggio' s instructions were 
first to try and persuade the king to lay aside his 
purpose of a divorce. He soon saw that this was 
useless, and YT'olsey plainly warned him with pro- 
phetic instinct. ' ' Most reverend lord, beware lest, 
in like manner as the greater part of Germany, 
owing to the harshness and severity of a certain 
cardinal, has become estranged from the Apostolic 
See and the faith, it should be said that another 
cardinal has given the same occasion to England, 
with the same result. ' ' 

Failing to shake the king's determination, the 
next course which Campeggio vfas ordered to pur- 
sue was to persuade the queen to comply with the 
king's wishes. Katherine was still treated with 
outward respect, but was cut off from all friends 
and advisers, and subjected to a secret and galling 



THE KING'S DIVORCE. 265 

persecution. Still she maintained a resolute spirit, 
and withstood the pleadings of Wolsey and Cam- 
peggio, who urged her to give way and withdraw 
to a monastery, for the quieting of the king's con- 
science. Katherine replied that there was nothing 
of which his conscience need be afraid, and that she 
intended ' ' to live and die in the estate of matri- 
mony to which God had called her. ' ' The obsti- 
nacy of Katherine was as invincible as the obstinacy 
of Henry ; and Katharine had right on her side. 

Nothing remained save for the legates to proceed 
to the trial of the case ; and in the trial Campeg- 
gio's instructions bade him procrastinate to the ut- 
most in hopes the king might give way before the 
long dela}^. Wolsey had foreseen this possibility 
when he demanded that Campeggio should bring 
with him a decretal defining the law as applicable 
to the case. This decretal Campeggio was in- 
structed to show the king, but keep in his own 
hands, so that it was useless for Wolsey' s purpose. 
His first object was to get hold of this decretal, and 
he wrote urgently to the Pope asking that it should 
be delivered into the king's hands, and shoT\Ti to 
the Privy Council. "Without the Pope's compli- 
ance," he sadly wrote, "I cannot bear up against 
this storm. ' ' But Clement YII. felt that he was 



266 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEf . 

more dependent on Charles Y. than on Henry YIII. , 
and declared that he had granted the decretal merely 
to be shown to the king and then burned ; he had 
never consented that it be shown to the king's 
comisellors. When he was further pressed he tossed 
his arms and said, with great agitation, " I do con- 
sider the ruin that hangs over me ; I repent what I 
have done. If heresies arise, is it my fault? My 
conscience acquits me. ]N"one of you have any rea- 
son to complain. I have performed my promise, 
and the king and the cardinal have never asked 
anything in my power which I have not granted 
with the utmost readiness; but I will do no vio- 
lence to my conscience. Let them, if they like, 
send the legate back again, on the pretext that he 
will not proceed in the cause, and then do as they 
please, provided they do not make me responsible 
for injustice. ' ' 

Here the Pope touched upon a noticeable feature 
of the case. Henry was bound upon a course which 
was neither legally nor morally right, though na- 
tional interests might to some degree be pleaded in 
its behalf. He was, however, resolved to be legally 
and morally justified in his own eyes and in the 
eyes of others. He would not content himself with 
setting aside the law, and leaving it to others iq 



THE KING'S DIVORCE. 267 

prove him in the wrong. The Papal Court was 
slow to justify him ; it would have been slower to 
condemn him. Most men would have been satis- 
fied with this knowledge, and would have acted 
upon it. But Henry was not only minded to do 
what he wished, but was resolved that what he 
wished should be declared absolutely right. He 
was determined that there should be no doubt about 
the legitimacy of his children by Anne Boleyn; 
and some recognition is due to him for not allow- 
ing his desires to overcome his patriotism and leave 
to England the deplorable legacy of a disputed suc- 
cession. As a man, Henry did not strive to subject 
his desires to the law of right ; as a king, he was 
bent upon justifying his own caprice so that it 
should not do hurt to his royal office, or offend his 
duty to his kingdom. Henry sinned, but he was 
bent on sinning royally, and believed that so he 
could extenuate his sin. 

ITot only was Campeggio ordered not to part 
with the decretal, but he was bidden to destroy 
it. Meanwhile a new feature of the case emerged. 
It became known that, besides the bull of dispen- 
sation granted to Henry YII. , an ampler brief had 
been issued in confirmation of it to Ferdinand of 
Spain, of which the original was contained in the 



^68 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

Spanish archives. Henrj YIII. insisted on its pro- 
duction, in the hopes of destroying it or casting 
doubts on its authenticity, and new negotiations 
were begun about this brief, which had the effect 
of wasting time and deferring the trial of the case. 
Further, on Clement YII.'s return to Eonie in 
May he was attacked by illness, and his death was 
reported, l^fothing could be done by the legates 
till they were assured of his recovery. 

Meanwhile Henry was growing more and more 
impatient, and made it clear to Wolsey that if the 
proceedings did not lead to his divorce all the blame 
would be laid at "Wolsey's door. Anne Boleyn also 
began to suspect Wolsey's good intentions towards 
herself, and thought that he was responsible for 
these repeated delays. Wolsey could no longer 
doubt that his all was staked on the issue of the 
trial, which at length began at Blackfriars on 18th 
June, 1529. Katharine appeared, and protested 
against the jurisdiction of the court. For the pur- 
pose of deciding this point it was necessary that 
both parties should appear in person ; and on 21st 
June Ilenry and Katharine both were present. 
The king demanded instant judgment for the eas- 
ing of his conscience ; Katharine first knelt before 
the king and asked for pity, then she appealed to 



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THE KING'S DIVORCE. 269 

Eome, where only the cause could be decided with- 
out partiality or suspicion. The legates overruled 
her appeal, and on her non-appearance declared her 
contumacious. 

The summoning of the king and queen was merely 
a formal incident in the procedure of the court, but 
it strangely impressed itself upon men's minds. 
The king, whom they regarded as the fountain of 
law, was called to plead before one of his own sub- 
jects and a foreign priest. Apart from any thought 
of the question at issue, or its rights and wrongs. 
Englishmen marvelled at this indignity, and felt 
that ecclesiastical law was some foreign thing which 
they could not fathom. ]S"o doubt the impression 
then wrought upon their minds accounts in some 
measure for the acceptance of the royal supremacy, 
as being at least more intelligible than the actual 
working of the outworn theory of the supremacy of 
the Pope. 

Moreover, the suppliant attitude of Katharine 
awakened a strong feeling of compassion, which on 
28th June found expression from the upright Bishop 
of Rochester, John Fisher, who appeared to plead 
Katharine's cause, and declared himself ready to 
follow the example of John the Baptist and lay 
down his life, if need be, to maintain the sanctity 



270 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

of matrimony. Others followed his example, and 
the signs of some dislike to the king's proceedings 
amongst Englishmen encouraged Campeggio to fall 
back upon his policy of procrastination, which the 
impetuous zeal of Yf olsey was striving to over- 
come. 
V Bienry grew more and more angry at the signs of 
opposition to his will which met him on every side, 
and Wolsey had to bear the brunt of the royal 
wrath. Cavendish tells how one day "Wolsey left 
the king's presence and took his barge. The 
Bishop of Carlisle, who was with him, remarked 
that the day was hot. ' ' Yea, ' ' quoth my lord 
cardinal, '' if ye had been as well chafed as I have 
been within this hour ye would say it was very hot. ' ' 
He went home " to his naked bed," where in two 
hours' time he was found by Lord Wiltshire, who 
brought a message from the king, bidding him and 
Campeggio *' repair unto the queen at Bridewell, 
into her chamber, to persuade her by their wisdoms, 
advising her to surrender the whole matter unto the 
king's hands by her own will and consent, which 
should be much better to her honor than to stand 
to the trial of law and be condemned, which would 
seem much to her slander and defamation." Wol- 
sey vainly complained of the folly of the lords of 



THE KING'S DIVORCE. 271 

the Council in putting such fancies into the king's 
head : he was bound to rise and obey. Sadly he 
sought Campeggio, and with a sense of deep humil- 
iation the two judges set out to make another at- 
tempt to browbeat an accused who had already re- 
fused to submit to their judicial authority. 

On 23d July it was expected that the court would 
give its decision. The king was present in a gal- 
lery, and after the reading of the pleas his counsel 
demanded judgment. Campeggio rose and declared 
that as the vacation of the Eoman courts began at 
the end of July and lasted till October, he must fol- 
low that custom, and adjourn the sittings of the 
court for two months. On this the Duke of Suffolk 
slapped the table and exclauned, '' It was never 
merry in England whilst we had cardinals among 
us." Wolsey was not the man to brook an insult, 
especially from one whom he had greatly benefited. 
'' Sir," he said, " of all men within this realm ye 
have least cause to dispraise or be offended at car- 
dinals : for if I, a simple cardinal, had not been, you 
should have had at this present no head upon your 
shoulders, wherein you should have a tongue to 
make any such report of us, who intend you no man- 
ner of displeasure. ' ' 

But though Wolsey could still wear a bold face 



272 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

when attacked, he knew that the future was hope- 
less. His enemies were daily gaining ground. 
His place, as the king's trusted counsellor, was taken 
by Stephen Gardiner, whom he had trained, and 
who was now the king's secretary and Anne's 
Boleyn's chief agent. The old nobles, headed by 
the Duke of J^orf oik, had made common cause with 
the relations of Anne Boleyn, and saw their oppor- 
tunity of avenging themselves for all the slights 
which Wolsey had put upon them. Henry was un- 
willing to abandon all hopes of his divorce through 
the legatine court, and spared Wolsey for a time ; 
but "Wolsey knew that the ground was slipping from 
under him. The Pope resolved to revoke the cause 
to Rome, and recall the powers granted to the leg- 
ates; it required all Wolsey' s efforts to prevent 
the issue of a citation to Henry to appear before the 
Roman court. 

Moreover, Wolsey had the additional pang of 
seeing all the fruits of his diplomatic activity aban- 
doned before the absorbing interest of this miser- 
able matter of the king's domestic life. If there 
was one object which was dear to Wolsey 's heart, 
it was to secure England's power in Europe by a 
close alliance with France. For this purpose he 
had made great sacrifices, and he thought that he 



THE KING'S DIVOECE. 273 

had some claim on Francis I. 's gratitude. Yet 
Francis was negotiating for peace with Charles Y . , 
and a conference was being held at Cambrai between 
his mother Louise and Charles's aunt Margaret. 
Wolsey sorely longed to be present at that confer- 
ence and protect the interests of England ; but 
Henry YIII. had no interest in such matters, and 
only regarded Wolsey' s wish as a sign that he was 
lukewarm in his efforts for the divorce. Moreover, 
Francis I. defamed him to the English envoy, the 
Duke of Suffolk, and did his best to foster the 
king's suspicion of Wolsey 's zeal in ''the great 
matter. ' ' He knew that to deprive Henry of his 
acute adviser was the readiest means of hiding his 
own proceedings. The conference at Cambrai was 
an abandonment of the methods of diplomacy and a 
return to the old usages of the days of chivalry. 
Two women took counsel together about family 
affairs, and their object was to remove domestic 
difficulties. Really Francis I. was weary of a 
profitless warfare, and agreed to abandon Italy to 
Charles Y. Henry YIII. was appeased by a trans- 
ference of the debt of Charles Y. to the shoulders 
of Francis I. , and this promise of more money seems 
to have satisfied the English king. Early in August 

the peace was signed, and Henry was included in 
i8 



274: LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

its provisions. If a testimony were needed that 
entirely English diplomacy depended upon Wolsey, 
it would be found in Henry's short-sightedness at 
this time. He did not try to influence the proceed- 
ings at Cambrai, but allowed hunself to be hood- 
winked by Francis I. , even in the point about which 
he was most interested. The peace of Cambrai left 
Charles Y. supreme in Italy, and restored in name 
the authority of the Pope, which the two sovereigns 
declared themselves resolved to maintain. Its 
practical result was to make the Pope more anxious 
to please Charles, who was now most closely con- 
nected with his political interests, and to free him 
from the dread of an alliance between Henry and 
Francis, which might have brought pressure to bear 
upon his action in the divorce. Clement had now 
no special motive for trying to conciliate the Eng- 
lish king, and it was clear to all Europe that 
Wolsey no longer guided England's policy. 

It was not only that Wolsey had failed in the 
matter of the divorce, but his failure had brought 
to light the true nature of the policy which he was 
pursuing, and had shown that it wa.s not adapted to 
the turn which affairs were taking under the influ- 
ence of the king's personal desires. Wolsey had 
planned a conservative reform, to be carried out 



THE KING'S DIVORCE. 275 

gracluallj. England, respected on the Continent, 
and holding the balance bet^yeen France and the 
Empire, was gradually to assert its power and in- 
dependence by setting up a strong monarchy which 
should overawe the Papacy, and without any for- 
mal breach with past traditions, should remodel its 
ecclesiastical institutions, and put its relations to the 
Papacy on a ncAV footing. Henry VIII. had so far 
entered into the spirit of this plan as to regard the 
existing state of things as of little moment, and his 
Welshes led him to try and anticipate the future. 
This was the most disastrous thing that could have 
befallen Wolsey : it is the danger which besets all 
attempts at conservative reform. It is hard to train 
men in the ideas of future change, and expect them 
to submit patiently to present fetters. Henry 
brusquely demanded too much from the Pope, and 
the Pope in his alarm offered too little. "Wolsey tried 
to mediate, but he was too closely allied with Henry 
for the Pope to trust him, and when his object was 
clearly seen in a small matter he was deprived of 
the means by which he hoped to win. His method 
Avas framed for large operations on a large field ; it 
was not suited for the petty task which w^as sud- 
denly imposed upon him. Yet if. it failed there it 
was sure to be condemned altogether, and the future 



276 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

would belong to the more revolutionary forces 
which he had been trying to hold in check. 

So in proportion as Wolsey failed about the 
divorce, the threads of his different but converging 
schemes fell from his hands. What was the profit 
to Henry of Wolsey's intricate foreign policy if it 
did not allow him to get a divorce when he pleased? 
Why should he deal tenderly with the papal au- 
thority when it threw such obstacles in his way? 
Why should he spare the Church when its bishops 
protested against him? Why should he permit the 
slow transformation of the monasteries when with 
a little trouble their spoil would fall into his hands? 
Why should he trust to Wolsey, who had already 
failed him in his need, when he had men like Gar- 
diner, with clear heads about matters of details, 
to serve him at his need ? Above all, why should 
Wolsey's fine-drawn plans stand between him and 
his people's affections, and lead him to do what 
Englishmen neither understood nor approved ? 
These were the questions with which Henry was 
plied. Wolsey had been only too successful and too 
consistent. If his policy was abandoned in aught, 
it must be abandoned in all. When Henry let fall 
Wolsey's foreign policy, and made no effort to in- 
fluence the peace of Cambraij there was no further 



THE KING'S DIVORCE. 277 

need of Wolsey in England's councils, and his rule 
was practically at an end. 

Still Wolsey was permitted to retain his offices. 
Campeggio had not yet departed ; something might 
still be done. The king had for some time avoided 
seeing Wolsey, and was engaged in wandering from 
place to place in the company of Anne Boleyn. At 
last, in the middle of September, Campeggio pre- 
pared to return to Kome, and accompanied by Wol- 
sey went to take leave of the king, who was then at 
Grafton in Northamptonshire. There they arrived 
on 19th September, and Campeggio was shown to 
his room, but Wolsey was informed that there was 
no room provided for him. He was relieved from 
his astonishment by a groom of the stole, who said, 
' ' I assure you, sir, here is very little room in this 
house, scantly sufficient for the king. However, I 
beseech your grace to accept mine for a season. ' ' 
When Wolsey and Campeggio were ushered into the 
king's presence they found the lords of the Council 
eagerly watching the king's behavior. If they ex- 
pected any signs of the royal displeasure they were 
disappointed, as Henry received Wolsey most 
graciously, and drew him aside into a window, 
where he talked with him privately. 

The king dined privately with Anne Boleyn, and 



27S LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

"Wolsey dined with the lords of the Council. In 
course of conversation he hinted at his own inten- 
tions for the future by saying, ' ' It were well done 
if the king would send his chaplains and bishops to 
their cures and benefices. " The Duke of I^orfolk 
eagerly assented, and Wolsey went on to say that he 
would gladly go to his bishopric of Winchester. 
Then N^orf oik showed his fears by saying, ''Nay, 
to your see of York, whence comes both your great- 
est honor and charge." Already Wolsey 's foes 
were scheming to remove him as far as possible from 
the royal presence. 

Every one was eagerly watching and listening for 
the smallest indications of the royal pleasure ; and 
Cavendish was told that Anne Boleyn at dinner with 
the king showed her dissatisfaction at Wolsey' s 
kindly reception. She denounced the cardinal in 
no measured terms, but without any immediate re- 
sult, as after dinner the king called Wolsey into his 
private room and talked with him for some time ; 
^^the which blanked his enemies very sore, and 
made them to stir the coals, being in doubt what 
this matter would grow into, having now none other 
refuge to trust to but Mistress Anne, in whom was 
all their whole and firm trust and affiance. ' ' Wol- 
sey rode off to ''Master Empson's house, called 



THE KING'S DIVORCE. 279 

Euston, three miles from Grafton," where he spent 
the night, and received a visit from Gardiner, who 
was thought to come as a spy ; but Wolsey talked 
to him about indifferent subjects, and showed that 
his sense of personal dignity was still strong. 

ISText morning he rode early to the Court, and 
saw the king for a short time; but Anne Boleyn 
had prepared a picnic at Hatwell Park, and carried 
off Henry with her, that Wolsey might not have 
much opportunity for private talk. The king bade 
a hurried farewell to "Wolsey and Gampeggio, and 
then rode awaj^ with Anne, while the . legates re- 
turned to London. Gampeggio did not reach Dover 
till 8 til October, and before he was allowed to 
embark his luggage was ransacked by the king's 
officials. 

This extraordinary viola,tion of the privileges of 
an ambassador was characteristic of the unscrupulous 
meanness to which Henry was now ready to descend. 
He hoped to find amongst Gampeggio' s papers the 
Pope's decretal about the law of the divorce. If he 
had found it Wolsey might still have been useful. 
He might have been compelled to continue the pro- 
ceedings of the legatine court, and give judgment in 
Henry's favor, sheltering himself under the terms of 
the commission, and applying the interpretation of 



280 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

the decretal. In this way the first measures wrung 
out of the Pope when he wished to be conciliating 
might have been used in a high-handed fashion 
against the conclusions of his settled policy. But 
Campeggio had already been instructed by the Pope 
to burn the decretal. Nothing was found as the 
result of the search, which only revealed the cardi- 
nal' s poverty. He had come to England ill provided, 
and had gained nothing from the royal bounty. 

This unworthy device seems to have been of 
Henry's own devising; and as soon as he heard of 
its failure Wolsey's doom was sealed. The king 
had treated him graciously, to the dismay even of 
Anne Boleyn, a few days before; now he aban- 
doned him to his enemies, who had their weapons 
of attack in readiness. On 9th October the king's 
attorney sued for a writ oi ^rcBmunire against Wol- 
sey, on the ground that his acts done as legate were 
contrary to the statute. After this Wolsey's ruin 
was a foregone conclusion. 



CHAPTEK X. 



THE FALL OF WOLSET. 



1529-1530. 



"When the storm broke over his head Wolsey had 
no hope of escape. His position as an English min- 
ister AYas due entirely to the king's favor, and when 
that favor was withdrawn he was entirely helpless. 
Outside the king there was no motive power in Eng- 
lish politics at this period. There was no party in 
the State strong enough to bring any influence to 
bear upon him : he was likely to be moved by noth- 
ing save the dread of a popular rising, and there 
was no chance of a popular rising in Wolsey 's favor. 
On the other hand, Wolsey had been contented to 
take upon his own shoulders the responsibility of all 
that was most unpopular in the king's proceedings. 
The demands created by the king's extravagance 
were put down to his extortionate nature ; the debts 
incurred by a policy which he disapproved were sup- 
posed to be the results of his influence ; even the 

281 



282 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

divorce was attributed to his ill-will against the 
Emperor and his love for France. The current of 
popular opinion ran strong against Wolsey. He 
had made f eAV friends and many enemies. His ene- 
mies were powerful, his friends were powerless. 
No one in England could lend him any help. 

It is true that the charge brought against him 
was most iniquitous. He had obtained his legatine 
authority through the king's urgent request; he had 
used it soloiy at the king's orders, and in the king's 
behalf. But he knew that such a plea would not 
be regarded, as the king's courts would simply reg- 
ister the king's will. There was no other course 
than entire submission, and before the king Wolsey 
had no thought of personal dignity. He wrote to 
Henry as a lowly suppliant, ^'For surely, most 
gracious king, the remembrance of my foUy^ with 
the sharp sword of your Highness 's displeasure, hath 
so penetrated my heart that I cannot but lament- 
ably cry, It is enough; now stay, most merciful 
king, 3^ourhand." Such loyalty, such entire sub- 
mission, is to our minds inconceivable, and only 
shows how the possession of absolute power debases 
not only those who are invested with it but those 
who are brought in contact with them. Wolsej 
might indeed lament his ' ' folly ' ' in putting any 



THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 283 

trust in princes ; he had served his master only too 
well, and met with the basest ingratitude for all the 
sacrifices of his own wishes and his own principles. 

Still he hoped by his submission to save some- 
thing. If sentence were pronounced against hun, 
under the charge oi jprmmunire^ his goods would be 
forfeited, and his acts invalidated. If he threw 
himself upon the king's mercy he might at least 
save his two colleges, and might be permitted to 
serve his country on a smaller scale. What was 
coming ho could not foresee. There would be open 
war between Henry and the Papacy, ^vaged with 
new weapons and fraught with danger to the Eng- 
lish Church. "It is the intention of these lords," 
wrote the French ambassador, '' when Wolsey is 
dead or destroyed, to get rid of the Church and 
spoil the goods of both. I suppose they mean to 
do grand things. ' ' The days of revolution were at 
hand, and Wolsey might still have some powder to 
check its excesses. 

His submission led to no immediate results. On 
16th October the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk de- 
manded the surrender of the great seal, and ordered 
Wolsey to depart to his house at Esher. Wolsey 
would humble himself before the king, but not be- 
fore others, and calmly asked them for their au- 



284 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

thority. They answered that they had the king's 
commission by word of mouth. ' ' The great seal of 
England, ' ' said Wolsey , ' ' was delivered me by the 
king's own person, to enjoy during my life, with 
the ministration of the office and high room of 
chancellorship of England ; for my surety Avhereof 
I have the king's letters-patent to show." High 
words were used by the dukes, but in the end they 
departed, and reappeared next day with letters from 
the king. On reading them Wolsey delivered up 
the seal, and expressed himself content to withdraw 
to Esher. 

Before departing he made an inventory of all his 
plate and tapestries, that it might be ready for the 
king to take possession. He further signed an in- 
denture acknowledging that on the authority of 
bulls obtained from Rome, which he published 
in England contrary to the statute, he had unlaw- 
fully vexed the prelates of the realm and other of 
the king's subjects, thereby incurring the penalties 
of prminunire^ by which also he deserved to suffer 
perpetual imprisonment at the king's pleasure, and 
to forfeit all his lands, offices, and goods. He be- 
sought the king, in part recompense of his offences, 
to take into his hands all his temporal possessions. 
Then he entered his barge in the presence of a 



THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 285 

crowd, which was sorely disappointed not to see 
him take the way to the Tower. 

When Wolsey arrived at Putney he was greeted 
by a messenger from the king, who brought him as 
a token a ring, with a message ' ' that the king bade 
him be of good cheer, for he should not lack. Al- 
though the king hath dealt with you unkindly, he 
saith that it is for no displeasure that he beareth 
you, but only to satisfy the minds of some which he 
knoweth be not your friends. Also ye know right 
well that he is able to recompense you with twice 
as much as your goods amounteth unto : and all 
this he bade me that I should show you. There- 
fore, sir, take patience ; and for my part, I trust to 
see you in better estate than ever ye were. ' ' When 
Wolsey heard this he dismounted from his mule and 
knelt in the mud in sign of thankfulness. He gave 
a present to the messenger, and grieved that he had 
no worthy gift to send to the king. Presently he 
bethought himself of a jester belonging to his house- 
hold. "If ye would at my request present the 
king with this poor fool, I trust his Highness would 
accept him well, for surely for a nobleman's pleas- 
ure he is worth a thousand pounds." It is a re- 
lief to find in this dismal story some signs of hu- 
man feeling. ' ' The poor fool took on so, and 



286 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

fired so in such a rage when he saw that he must 
needs depart from my lord," that six tall yeomen 
had to be sent as an escort to convey him safely to 
the Court. 

It is needless to seek for a motive for Henry's 
conduct in sending this delusive message ; probably 
he did it through an amiable desire to make himself 
generally agreeable. JSTo man likes to feel that he 
is acting villainously; perhaps Henry's conscience 
felt all the pleasure of having performed a virtu- 
ous action when he heard of Wolsey's gratitude for 
such a small mercy. Henry YIII. was nothing if 
he was not conscientious ; but he made large drafts 
on his conscience, and paid them back in small 
coin. Probabl}^ we have here the record of such a 
payment. 

Certainly Henry did nothing to give his good- 
will towards Wolsey any practical expression; he 
did not even send him any money to provide his 
household with the necessaries of life. For a month 
they remained ''without beds, sheets, tablecloths, 
cups, and dishes to eat their meat or lie in," and 
ultimately had to borrow them. What most dis- 
tressed Wolsey, who had been accustomed to munifi- 
cence, was that he had not even money to pay the 
wages of his household before he dismissed them 



THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 287 

sadly from his service. In his straits one of his 
officials came to his aid, and showed his tact and 
management in affairs of business. Thomas Crom- 
well, the son of a London citizen, spent an adven- 
turous youth in business on the Continent, and set- 
tled in London as a small attorney and a money- 
lender. Wolsey had found out his ability, and em- 
ployed him to manage the dissolution of the monas- 
teries, and transact the business connected with the 
foundation of his colleges. JSTo doubt this gave him 
opportunities of spreading his own business, and 
making himself useful friends. In anticipation of 
the future he contrived to get himself elected as 
member of the Parliament for which Henry YIII. 
issued writs upon the suspension of the legatine 
court. 

Cromwell accompanied Wolsey to Esher, and 
was much moved by the thought of the loss which 
his patron's fall was likely to inflict upon himself. 
On 1st November Cavendish found him leaning in 
the window '^with a primer in his hand, saying 
our Lady mattins. He prayed not more earnestly 
than the tears distilled from his eyes. ' ' He la- 
mented that he was in disdain with most men for his 
master's sake, and surely without just cause; but 
he was resolved that afternoon to ride to London, 



288 LIFE OF THOMAS WOIiSEY. 

and so to the Court, '' where I will either make or 
mar, or I come again." After dinner he talked 
with Wolsey about his household, and then showed 
his power of gaining popularity at the expense of 
others. "Have you not," he exclaimed, "a 
number of chaplains, to whom ye have departed 
very liberally with spiritual promotions ? and yet 
have your poor servants taken much more pains for 
you in one day than all your idle chaplains have 
done in a year. Therefore if they will not freely 
and frankly consider your liberality, and depart 
with you of the same goods gotten in your service, 
now in your great indigence and necessity, it is 
pity that they live." Wolsey agreed; he sum- 
moned his household, and addressed them in a dig- 
nified speech; he gave them a month's holiday, 
that they might seek some more profitable service. 
Then Cromwell said that they lacked money, and 
himself tendered five pounds towards their pay- 
ment, adding, "l^ow let us see what you chap- 
lains will do. ' ' The example was contagious, and 
contributions poured in. The household was paid, 
and departed full of thankfulness to Cromwell. 
Then, after a private conversation with Wolsey, 
Cromwell rode off to London to ' ' make or mar. ' ' 
Parliament met on 3d I^ovember, and Wolsey 's 



THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 289 

enemies hoped that its first business would be 
Wolsey's impeachment. For this, however, Henry 
yill. was not prepared, though he did not openly 
forbid it. He Avas not sure of the capacit}^ of his 
new advisers, and perhaps felt that he might have 
further need of Wolsey's services. Anyhow it was 
better to keep his opponents in constant fear of his 
return to poAver. They were bound together rather 
by opposition to Wolsey than by any agreement 
amongst themselves ; and Henry was not very san- 
guine about their administrative success. The 
Duke of l^orfolk, the uncle of Anne Boleyn, was 
president of the Council, and Suffolk was vice- 
president. The chancellorship was given to Sir 
Thomas More, who was well fitted by his literary 
reputation and high character to calm the fears of 
moderate men, and show Europe that the English 
king had no lack of eminent servants. The chan- 
cellorship of the duchy of Lancashire was given to 
the treasurer of the household, Sir William Fitz- 
william, a capable official. Gardiner preferred an 
ecclesiastical post, and succeeded to the bishopric 
of Winchester, which Wolsey was bidden to resign. 
It still remained to be seen if l^orfolk, Suffolk, and 
More could fill the place of Wolsey. 

Parliament was opened by the king; and thQ 
19 



290 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

chancellor, according to custom, made a speech. In 
the course of it More showed that a man of letters 
does not necessarily retain his literary taste in poli- 
tics, and that high character does not save a states- 
man from the temptation to catch a passing cheer 
by unworthy taunts at his defeated adversary. He 
spoke of the king as shepherd of his people, and 
went on, ' ' As you see that amongst a great flock 
of sheep some be rotten and faulty, which the 
good Shepherd sendeth from the good sheep, so 
the great wether which is of late fallen, as you 
all know, so craftily, so scabbedly, yea, and so un- 
truly juggled with the king, that all men must 
needs guess and think that he thought in him- 
self that he had no wit to perceive his crafty doing, 
or else that he presumed that the king would not 
see nor know his fraudulent juggling and attempts. 
But he was deceived; for his Grace's sight was so 
quick and penetrating that he saw him, yea, and 
saw through him, both within and without, so that 
all things to him were open ; and according to his 
deserts he hath had a gentle correction. ' ' 

This speech of More served as introductory to a 
Bill which was brought into the Upper House for 
disabling Wolsey from being restored to his former 
dignities and place in the king's Council, It was 



THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 291 

founded upon a series of articles which had been 
drawn up by his enemies long before, and were a 
tissue of frivolous or groundless charges. The bill 
passed the Lords, but on its introduction into the 
Commons was opposed by Cromwell, who knew 
that the king did not wish it to be passed. It an- 
swered its purpose of casting a stigma on Wolsey, 
and justifying Henry's conduct towards him; but 
Henry did not intend to deprive himself of the 
power of employing Wolsey again if he should 
prove useful. So Cromwell served the king while 
he served Wolsey, and served himself at the same 
time by a display of zeal for his fallen master which 
raised him in men's esteem, " so that at length, for 
his honest behavior in his master's cause, he grew 
into such estimation in every man's opinion, that 
he was esteemed to be the most faithfullest servant 
to his master of all others, wherein he was of all 
men greatly commended. ' ' Moreover, he managed 
to make friends by the sure tie of self-interest. He 
advised Wolsey to buy off the hostility of important 
men by granting them pensions out of the revenues 
of his see : as he chose the recipients of the money 
and negotiated the grants he gained more gratitude 
than Wolsey gained profit out of the transaction. 
Wolsey believed that his prospects depended on 



292 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

Cromwell's zeal, and the great cardinal became sub- 
missive to the direction of one whom he had raised. 
He abode at Esher in a state of feverish anxiety, 
sometimes receiving a present and a gracious mes- 
sage from the king, often irritated by Cromwell, 
who deluded him by a cheap display of zeal, griev- 
ing most of all at the uncertainty of the fortunes of 
his great colleges, which he still wished to leave as 
a memorial to posterity of the schemes which he 
intended. v 

Parliament was prorogued in the middle of De- 
cember, and the Bill against "Wolsey was allowed 
to drop. The king and Anne Boleyn were delighted 
with the cardinal's house at York Place, of which 
they took possession, and Wolsey was still left in 
uncertainty about his future. Anxiety preyed upon 
his health, and at Christmas he fell ill. The news 
of his illness seems to have brought some remorse 
to Henry, who sent his own physician, and eagerly 
asked for tidings, saying, ' ' I would not lose him for 
twenty thousand pounds. ' ' Doctor Buttes answered, 
'' Then must your Grace send him some comfort- 
able message as shortly as is possible. ' ' The king 
gave Buttes a favorite ring from his own finger, 
saying, ' ' Tell him that I am not offended with him 
in my heart nothing at all, and that shall he per- 



THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 293 

ceive, and God send him life very shortly. ' ' He 
asked Anne Boleyn to send also a ' ' token with 
comfortable words," and Anne at his command 
obeyed, overcoming her reluctance by the thought 
that the cardinal was on his deathbed. 

Doctor Buttes's prescription was a good one, and 
with revived hopes Wolsey speedily recovered. On 
2d February, 1530, the king sent him some furniture 
for his house and chapel. On 12th February he 
received a full pardon for his offences, and on 14th 
February was restored to the archbishopric of York 
and its possessions excepting York Place, which the 
king retained for himself. He entreated to be al- 
lowed to keep also the bishopric of Winchester and 
the Abbey of St. Alban's; but Gardiner had his 
eye on Winchester, and the Dukes of ]!^orfolk and 
Suffolk were anxious that Wolsey should not hold a 
post which might bring him into the neighborhood of 
the king. He was compelled to resign both these 
offices, and recognized in this the power of his foes. 

The damp air of Esher was hurtful to his health, 
and he received permission to change his residence 
to Richmond Lodge. There he stayed until the 
state of the roads allowed him to take his journey 
northwards, which the Dulve of Norfolk pressed him 
to do in forcible language. ' ' Show him, ' ' be said. 



294: LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

to Cromwell, ' ' that if he go not away shortly, I 
will, rather than he should tarry still, tear him with 
my teeth." When Wolsey heard this he said, 
''Marry, Thomas, then it is time to be going, if 
my lord of Norfolk take it so. Therefore I pray 
you go to the king and say that I would with all 
my heart go to my benefice at York but for want of 
money." "Wolsey' s immediate necessities were 
grudgingly supplied by the lords of the Council, and 
in the beginning of Passion Week he began his 
journey to York. He was received with courtesy 
by the gentry on the way. The manor-house at 
Southwell, where he resolved to live, required some 
repairs, and he could not occupy it till 5th June. 

In his house at Southwell Wolsey received the 
neighboring gentry, and I made himself popular 
amongst them. He lived simply, and applied him- 
self to the discharge of the duties of his office with 
great success. A pamphlet published in 1536 says 
of him : ' ' Who was less beloved in the north than 
my lord cardinal before he was amongst them? 
Who better beloved after he had been there a while? 
He gave bishops a right good example how they 
might win men's hearts. There were few holy days 
but he would ride &ve or six miles from his house, 
now to this parish church, now to that, and there 



THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 295 

cause one or other of his doctors to make a sermon 
unto the people. He sat amongst them and said 
mass before all the parish ; he saw why churches were 
made ; he began to restore them to their right and 
proper use ; he brought his dinner with him, and 
bade divers of the parish to it. He inquired whether 
there were any debate or grudge between any of 
them. If there were, after dinner he sent for the 
parties to the church and made them all one. ' ' It 
is an attractive picture of episcopal activity which is 
here set before us. We wish that Wolsey had been 
great enough to realize the pleasure of these simple 
duties so thoroughly as to wean himself from the 
allurements of political ambition. But Wolsey in 
his retirement was something like Machiavelli in 
exile : he found some satisfaction for his activity in 
the doings of peasants, but he went home and han- 
kered for the great life of politics which was denied 
him. He meditated still how he could overthrow 
his enemies and return to the more complex prob- 
lems in which he had been trained. 

At the end of the summer Wolsey removed from 
Southwell to another manor-house at Scrooby, 
where he continued the same mode of life. All this 
time his actions were jealously watched by his ene- 
mies, who suspected him of trying to gain popu- 



296 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

larity and raise up a party in his favor. They did 
their best to keep him in perpetual annoyance by 
threats of legal proceedings touching the possessions 
of the see of York. The king paid no heed to him 
save to exact all the money he could from his for- 
feiture. Amongst other things which the king 
claimed was the payment of Wolsey's pension from 
the French king; and his care for Wolsey's health 
at Christmas may have been, due to the fact that he 
thought that Wolsey's life had a pecuniary value to 
himself. He presently dissolved Wolsey's college 
at Ipswich, and seized all its lands and possessions. 
It was a bitter blow to Wolsey to see his plans thus 
overthrown. He had hoped to found an institution 
which should promote education where it was sore- 
ly needed in the eastern counties. It was the be- 
ginning of a project which would have led to the 
foundation of local universities, which it has been 
reserved to our own day to revive. If Wolsey had 
remained in power monastic revenues would have 
been increasingly diverted to educational purposes, 
and England would have been provided with col- 
leges which would have grown with local needs. 
The dissolution of the college at Ipswich checked 
this process at the beginning, and negatived any 
scheme for the slow transformation of the monas- 



THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 297 

teries into institutions which were in accordance 
with national needs. 

Cardinal College at Oxford met with better for- 
tune. Wolsey pleaded hard for its preservation, 
and the authorities of the college made a stand in 
its behalf. The king was not yet prepared to seize 
the lands of the dissolved monastery of St. Frides- 
wyde, or of the old Canterbury Hall, which had 
been absorbed, and it could be shown that he would 
lose as much as he would gain by attempting an ac- 
curate division of the property of the college. He 
agreed to '' have an honorable college there, but 
not so great and of such magnificence as my lord 
cardinal intended to have, for it is not thought meet 
for the common weal of our realm. ' ' The site of 
the college and a portion of its revenues were saved 
from the commissioners who were realizing Wolsey's 
forfeiture ; but the name of Christ Church obliter- 
ated that of Cardinal College, and Henry YIII. en- 
deavored as far as he could to associate the founda- 
tion with himself and dissociate it from Wolsey. 

This persistent disregard of the ideas which Wol- 
sey had striven to put forward weighed heavily on 
his spirits. ' ' I am put from my sleep and meat, ' ' 
he wrote, ' ' for such advertisements as I have had 
of the dissolution of my colleges. ' ' It was not only 



298 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

the sense of personal disappointment whicli afflicted 
him ; it was the hopeless feeling that all his policy 
was being reversed. "Wolsey was in his way a 
churchman, and hoped as a statesman to bring the 
Church into accordance with the national needs. 
He saw that only in this way could the existing re- 
sources of the Church be saved from the hand of the 
spoiler. The king's desire to seize upon the reve- 
nues of his colleges showed him that Henry had cast 
away the principles which Wolsey had striven to 
enforce, that he had broken through the limits which 
"Wolsey had endeavored to set, and that when once 
he had tasted his prey his appetite was likely to be 
insatiable. This taught Wolsey that his own fu- 
ture was hopeless. On the lower level to which the 
king had sunk he was not likely to need the car- 
dinal's aid. "Wolsey' s great schemes for the future 
were to make way for a policy mainly dictated by 
present greed. Henry YIII. had discovered how 
great his power was, and intended to use it for the 
satisfaction of his own desires. 

So Wolsey turned himself more attentively to the 
duties of his episcopal office, hoping thereby to make 
some amends for past neglect, and fiU up with use- 
ful work the remainder of his days. His poverty 
tad prevented him from taking possession of his 



THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 299 

cathedral, as he had no money to defray the ex- 
penses of his installation. By the end of September 
he had managed to scrape together £1500, and set 
out from Scrooby to York. On his way he was 
busied with confirmations. At St. Oswald's Abbey 
he confirmed children from eight in the morning till 
noon ; after dinner he returned to the church at one, 
and continued his confirmation till four, when he 
was constrained for weariness to sit down in a chair. 
Next morning before his departure he confirmed a 
hundred children more ; and as he rode on his way 
he found at Ferrybridge two hundred children wait- 
ing for confirmation at a stone cross standing upon 
the green. It was late in the evening before he 
reached Cawood Castle, seven miles from York. 
There he was visited by the Dean of York, and 
made arrangements for his installation. 

This ceremony, however, was not to take place. 
Wolsey's enemies were implacable, especially the 
Duke of Norfolk, who was alarmed at the renewal 
of Wolsey's popularity in the north, and at the 
signs of vigor which he showed. His actions were 
jealously watched and eagerly criticised to find some 
opportunity for a charge against him, which was at 
last found in Wolsey's communications with foreign 
envoys. It would seem that Wolsey could not recon- 



goo LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

cile himself to political inactivity, and trusted that 
the influence of Francis I., for whom he had done 
so much, would be used in his favor. But Francis 
treated Wolsey with the proverbial ingratitude of 
politicians. Wolsey had been a friend of France, 
but his friendship had been costly, and Francis I. 
found that the new ministers were equally friendly 
to France, and did not demand so much in return. 
In truth, Henry, though he had abandoned Wolsey 
for his failure in the matter of the divorce, had not 
been better served by his new advisers, who had no 
other course to follow than that which Wolsey had 
marked out — to use the close alliance with France 
as a means of bringing pressure to bear upon the 
Pope. So Norfolk was obsequious to Francis, who 
preferred to deal with a man of J^orf oik's calibre 
rather than acknowledge a master in Wolsey. 

Of this Wolsey was ignorant ; and he no longer 
showed his old dexterity in promoting his own in- 
terests. He made the mistake of trusting to the old 
methods of diplomacy when his position was no 
longer that of a minister, and when he had been re- 
moved from actual touch of current affairs. He 
opened up communications with the French envoy 
by means of a Yenetian physician, Agostino, who 
was a member of his household. He even com- 



THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 301 

municated with the imperial envoy as well. How- 
ever harmless these communications might be, they 
were certainly indiscreet, and were capable of being 
represented to the king as dangerous. Korfolk 
gained some information, either from the French 
envoy or from Agostino, and laid before the king 
charges against Wolsey, ' ' that he had written to 
Home to be reinstated in his possessions, and to 
France for its favor; and was returning to his 
ancient pomp, and corrupting the people. ' ' There 
was not much in these charges ; but Norfolk was 
afraid of Wolsey in the background, and quailed 
before the king's bursts of petulance, in which he 
said that the cardinal knew more about the business 
of the State than any of his new advisers. Henry 
was quite satisfied with the proceeds of spoiling 
Wolsey, and was glad to keep him in reserve ; but the 
suggestion that Wolsey was intriguing with foreign 
Courts sorely angered him, and he gave orders that 
"Wolsey be brought to trial to answer for his conduct. 
So Sir Walter Walshe was sent with a warrant 
to the Earl of JSTorthumberland, and arrived as 
Wolsey was busied at Cawood with the prelimi- 
naries of his installation. On 4th November, when 
Wolsey had retired from dinner and was sitting in 
his own room over his dessert, the Earl of North- 



302 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

umberland appeared, and demanded the keys of the 
castle from the porter. He entered the hall, and 
posted his servants to guard all the doors. Wol- 
sey, in ignorance of what was in store for him, met 
Northumberland and offered him hospitality, ex- 
pressing his delight at the unexpected visit. When 
they were alone the Earl, ' ' trembling, said, with a 
very faint and soft voice, unto my lord, laying his 
hand upon his arm, ' My lord, I arrest you of high 
treason.' " For a time "Wolsey stood speechless 
with astonishment, then he asked to see the war- 
rant, which ^Northumberland had not brought with 
him. As he was speaking Sir Walter Walshe opened 
the door and thrust into the room the physician 
Agostino, whom he had made prisoner. "Wolsey 
asked him about the warrant, and when he recog- 
nized him as one of the gentlemen of the king's 
privy chamber, he submitted to the royal com- 
mands without asking further for the production of 
the warrant. Then he delivered up his keys to 
Northumberland. 

Agostino was at once sent to London tied under 
a horse's belly — a mode of conveyance which was 
doubtless calculated to refresh his memory. When 
he arrived in London he was taken to the Duke of 
Norfolk's house, and showed himself ready to bear 



THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 30S 

witness against Wolsey. ^' Since they have had 
the cardinal's physician in their hands," writes the 
imperial envoy, '^ they have found what they 
sought. Since he has been here he has lived in the 
Duke of J^orf oik's house like a prince, and is sing- 
ing the tune they wished. ' ' 

There was not the same need of haste in bringing 
Wolsey to London, for even with Agostino's help 
l^orfolk was doubtful if the evidence against Wol- 
sey would be sufficient to ensure his condemnation 
to death ; and he did not wish to give Wolsey the 
opportunity of a trial when he might still be for- 
midable. His imprisonment in the Tower at the 
royal pleasure would only bring him nearer to the 
king, who might at any moment make use of him 
as he threatened. Really, IN^orfolk was somewhat 
embarrassed at the success of his scheme ; and Wol- 
sey, in a conversation with Cavendish, showed a 
flash of his old greatness. ' ' If I may come to my 
answer," he said, "I fear no man alive; for he 
liveth not upon the earth that shall look upon this 
face and shall be able to accuse me of any untruth ; 
and that know my enemies full well, which Avill be 
an occasion that I shall not have indifferent justice, 
but they will rather seek some other sinister way to 
destroy me. 



5) 



a04 LIF^ OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

It was this thouglit that unnerved Wolsey, worn 
out as he was by disappointment, humiliated by his 
helplessness, and harassed by a sense of relentless 
persecution. Still he retained his dignity and kind- 
liness, and when on the evening of 7th [NTovember he 
was told to prepare for his journey, he insisted upon 
bidding farewell to his household. The Earl of 
]^orthumberland wished to prevent this, and only 
gave way through fear of a tumult if he persisted in 
his refusal. The servants knelt weeping before Wol- 
sey , who ' ' gave them comfortable words and worthy 
praises for their diligent faithfulness and honest 
truth towards him, assuring them that what chance 
soever should happen unto him, that he was a true 
man and just to his sovereign lord. ' ' Then shaking 
each of them by the hand he departed. 

Outside the gate the country folk had assembled 
to the number of three thousand, who cried, " God 
save your grace. The foul evil take all them that 
hath thus taken you from us ; we pray God that a 
very vengeance may light upon them. ' ' Thus they 
ran crying after him through the town of Cawood, 
they loved him so well. After this moving fare- 
well Wolsey rode through the gathering darkness 
to Pomfret, where he was lodged in the abbey. 
Thence he proceeded through Doncaster to Sheffield 



THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 305 

Park, where he Avas kindly received by the Earl of 
Shrewsbury, whose guest he was for eighteen days. 
Once a day the earl visited him and tried to com- 
fort him, but Wolsey refused all human comfort and 
applied himself diligently to prayer. While he was 
at Sheffield Park his health, which never had been 
good, began to give way, and he suffered from dys- 
entery, which was aggravated by an unskilful 
apothecary. 

As he was thus ailing there arrived Sir William 
Kingston, Constable of the Tower, Avith a guard of 
twenty -four soldiers ; he had received a commission 
from the king to bring Wolsey as a prisoner to the 
Tower. It would seem from this that Agostino'S 
confessions had been skilfully raised to fan the 
royal wrath, and Henry gave this sign that he was 
prepared to treat his former minister as a traitor. 
The Earl of Shrewsbury did his best to treat the 
coming of Kingston as a trivial incident, and sent 
Cavendish to break the news gently to his master. 
Cavendish gave the message as he was bidden. 
'' Forsooth my lord of Shrewsbury, perceiA^ng by 
your often communication that ye were always de- 
sirous to come before the king's Majesty, and now 
as your assured friend, hath travailed so with his 

letters imto the king, that the king hath sent for 
20 



306 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

you by Master Kingston and twenty-four of the 
guard to conduct you to his Highness." Wolsey 
was not deceived. ^'Master Kingston," he re- 
peated, and smote his thigh. "When Cavendish 
made a further attempt to cheer him he cut him 
short by saying, ' ' I perceive more than you can im- 
agine or can know. Experience hath taught me." 
When Kingston was introduced and knelt before 
him, Wolsey said, ' ' I pray you stand up, and leave 
your kneeling unto a very wretch replete with mis- 
ery, not worthy to be esteemed, but for a vile ob- 
ject utterly cast away, mthout desert ; and there- 
fore, good Master Kingston, stand up, or I will my- 
self kneel down by you. ' ' After some talk Wolsey 
thanked Kingston for his kind words. ' ' Assure 
yourself that if I were as able and as lusty as I have 
been but of late, I would not fail to ride with you 
in post. But all these comfortable words which ye 
have spoken be but for a purpose to bring me to a 
fool's paradise; I know what is provided forme." 
With a mind thus agitated the sufferings of the 
body increased. When Wolsey took his journey 
next day all regarded him as a dying man. The 
soldiers of the guard, ' ' as soon as they espied their 
old master in such a lamentable estate, lamented him 
with weeping eyes. Whom my lord took by the 



"¥ 



THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 307 

hands, and divers times by the way as he rode he 
would talk with them, sometime with one and some- 
time with another. ' ' That night he reached Hard- 
wick Hall, in Notts, a house of the Earl of Shrews- 
bury, and the next day rode to Nottingham. On the 
way from thence to Leicester he was so feeble that he 
could scarcely sit upon his mule. It was dark on 
Saturday night when he reached Leicester Abbey, 
where the abbot greeted him by torchlight. 
' ' Father Abbot, ' ' he said, ' ' I am come hither to 
leave my bones among you." Kingston had to 
carry him upstairs to his bed, which he never 
quitted again. 

All Sunday his malady increased, and on Monday 
morning Cavendish, as he watched his face, thought 
him drawing fast to his end. ' ' He perceiving my 
shadow upon the wall by his bedside asked who 
was there. ' Sir, I am here, ' quoth I. ' What is 
it of the clock?' said he. 'Forsooth, sir,' said 
I, ' it is past eight of the clock in the morning. ' — 
' Eight of the clock, eight of the clock, ' said he, re- 
hearsing divers times. ' Nay, nay, it cannot be eight 
of the clock ; for by eight of the clock ye shall lose 
your master, for my time draweth near that I must 
depart out of this world. ' ' ' 

But the dying man was not to depart without a 



308 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

reminder of the pitiless character of the master 
whom he had served so well. When Wolsey left 
Cawood the Earl of ^Northumberland remained be- 
hind to examine his papers ; amongst them he found 
a record that Wolsey had in his possession £1500, 
but he reported to the king that he could not find 
the money. Such was Henry's keenness as his own 
minister of finance that he could not await Wolsey's 
arrival in London, but wrote off instantly to King- 
ston, bidding him examine Wolsey how he came by 
the money, and discover where it was. In obedi- 
ence to the royal command Kingston reluctantly 
visited the dying man, who told him that he had 
borrowed the money of divers friends and depen- 
dants whom he did not wish to see defrauded ; the 
money was in the keeping of an honest man, and 
he asked for a little time before disclosing where it 
was. 

In the night he often swooned, but rallied in the 
morning and asked for food. Some chicken broth 
was brought him, but he remembered that it was a 
fast-day, being St. Andrew's Eve. "What though 
it be, ' ' said his confessor, ' ' ye be excused by rea- 
son of your sickness." — "Yea," said he, "what 
though ? I ^vill eat no more. ' ' After this he made 
his confession, and about seven in the morning 



THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 309 

Kingston entered to ask further about the money. 
But seeing how ill "Wolsey was, Kingston tried to 
comfort him. "Well, well," said Wolsej, ''I 
see the matter against me how it is framed, but if 
I had served God so diligently as I have done the 
king, he would not have given me over in my gray 
hairs. Howbeit, this is the just reward that I must 
receive for m}'- worldly diligence and pains that I 
had to do him service, only to satisfy his vain pleas- 
ure, not regarding my godly duty. Wherefore, I 
pray you, T\nth all my heart, to have me most hum- 
bly commended unto his royal Majesty, beseeching 
him in my behalf to call to his most gracious re- 
membrance all matters proceeding between him and 
me from the beginning of the world unto this day, 
and the progress of the same, and most chiefly in 
the weighty matter now depending {i.e. the divorce) ; 
then shall his conscience declare whether I have 
offended him or no. He is sure a prince of a royal 
courage, and hath a princel}^ heart ; and rather than 
he will either miss or want any part of his will or 
appetite he will put the loss of one-half of his realm 
in danger. For I assure you I have often kneeled 
before him in his privy chamber on my knees the 
space of an hour or two, to persuade him from his 
will and appetite ; but I could never bring to pass 



310 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

to dissuade him therefrom. Therefore, Master 
Kingston, if it chance hereafter you to be one of his 
Privy Council, as for your wisdom and other qual- 
ities ye are meet to be, I warn you to be well ad- 
vised and assured what matter ye put in his head, 
for ye shall never put it out again." He went on 
to bid him warn the king against the spread of the 
pernicious sect of Lutherans as harmful to the royal 
authority and destructive of the order of the realm. 
Then as his tongue failed him he gasped out, 
" Master Kingston, farewell. I can no more, but 
wish all things to have good success. My time 
draweth on fast. I may not tarry with you. And 
forget not, I pray you, what I have said and 
charged you withal, for when I am dead ye shall 
perad venture remember my words much better." 
His breath failed him and his eyes grew fixed. The 
abbot came to administer supreme unction, and as 
the clock struck eight Wolsey passed away. ' * And 
calling to our remembrance his words the day be- 
fore, how he said that at eight of the clock we 
should lose our master, one of us looked upon an- 
other supposing that he prophesied of his depart- 



ure." 



Kingston sent a message to tell the king of Wol- 
sey' s death, and hastened the preparations for his 



THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 311 

funeral. His body was placed in a coffin of boards, 
vested in his archiepiscopal robes, with his mitre, 
cross, and ring. It lay in state till five in the after- 
noon, when it was carried into the church and was 
placed in the Lady Chapel, where it was watched 
all night. At four in the morning mass was sung, 
and by six the grave had closed over the remains of 
Wolsey. 

It would be consoling to think that a pang of 
genuine sorrow was felt by Henry YIII. when he 
heard of the death of Wolsey ; but unfortunately 
there is no ground for thinking so, and' all that is 
on record shows us that Henry's chief care still was 
to get hold of the £1500, which was all that re- 
mained of "VYolsev's fortune. Cavendish was taken 
by Kingston to Hampton Court, where he was smn- 
moned to the king, who was engaged in archery in 
the park. As Cavendish stood against a tree sadly 
musing Henry suddenly came behind him and 
slapped him on the back, saying, ' * I will make an 
end of my game, and then I will talk with you. ' ' 
Soon he finished his game and went into the garden, 
but kept Cavendish waiting for some time outside. 
The interview lasted more than an hour, ^ ' during 
which time he examined me of divers matters con- 
cernmg my lord, wishing that liever than twenty 



312 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

thousand pounds that he had lived. Then he asked 
me for the fifteen hundred pounds which Master 
Kingston moved to my lord before his death." 
Cavendish told him what he knew about it, and 
said that it was deposited with a certain priest. 
*'Well, then," said the king, ''let me alone, &nd 
keep this gear secret between yourself and me, and 
let no man be privy thereof ; for if I hear more of 
it, then I know by whom it is come to knowledge. 
Three may keep counsel if two be away ; and if I 
thought that my cap knew my counsel I would cast 
it into the fire and burn it." Henry spoke freely, 
and these words disclose the secret of his strength. 
Every politician has a method of his own by which 
he hides his real character and assumes a personality 
which is best fitted for his designs. Henry YIII. 
beneath an air of frankness and geniality concealed 
a jealous and watchful temperament, full of crafty 
designs for immediate gain, resolute, avaricious, 
and profoundly self-seeking. 

As we have been so much indebted to Cavendish 
for an account of Wolsey's private life, especially 
in his last days, it is worth while to follow Caven- 
dish's fortunes. The king promised to take him 
into his own service, and to pay him his wages for 
the last year, amounting to £10. He bade him ask 



THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 313 

it of the Duke of ISTorfolk. As he left the king he 
met Kingston coming from the Council, whither 
Cavendish also was summoned. Kingston implored 
him to take heed what he said. The Council would 
examine him about Wolsey's last words; "and if 
you tell them the truth you shall undo yourself. ' ' 
He had denied that he heard anything, and 
warned Cavendish to do the same. So Cavendish 
answered the Duke of Norfolk that he was so busied 
in waiting on Wolsey that he paid little heed to 
Avhat he said. " He spoke many idle words, as 
men in such extremities do, the which I cannot 
now remember." He referred them to Kingston's 
more accurate memory. It is a dismal picture of 
Court life which is here presented to us. On every 
side was intrigue, suspicion, and deceit. Wolsey's 
last words were consigned to oblivion; for the 
frankness that was begotten of a retrospect in one 
who had nothing more to hope or fear was danger- 
ous in a place whence truth was banished. 

When the Council was over Norfolk talked with 
Cavendish about his future. Cavendish had seen 
enough of public life, and had no heart to face its 
dangers. The figure of Wolsey rose before his eyes, 
and he preferred to carry away into solitude his 
memories of the vanity of man's ambition. His 



314 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

only request was for a cart and a horse to carry 
away his own goods, which had been brought with 
Wolsey's to the Tower. The king was gracious, 
and allowed him to choose six cart-horses and a cart 
from Wolsey's stable. He gave him five marks for 
his expenses, paid him £10 for arrears of wages, 
and added £20 as a reward. '^ I received all these 
things accordingly, and then I returned into my 
country. ' ' 

It says much for "Wolsey that he chose as his per- 
sonal attendant a man of the sweet, sensitive, retir- 
ing type of George Cavendish, though it was not till 
after his fall from power that he learned the value 
of such a friend. 'No less significant of the times is 
the profound impression which Wolsey's fate ex- 
cited on the mind of Cavendish, who in the retire- 
ment of his own county of Suffolk lived with in- 
creasing sadness through the changes which befell 
England and destroyed many of the memories which 
were dearest to his heart. No one then cared to 
hear about Wolsey, nor was it safe to recall the 
thought of the great Cardinal of England to the 
minds of men who were busied in undoing his work. 
Not till the days of Mary did Cavendish gather to- 
gether his notes and sketch the fortunes of one 
whose figure loomed forth from a distant past, mel- 



THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 315 

lowed by the mists of time, and hallowed by the 
pious resignation which was the only comfort that 
reflection could give to the helpless recluse. The 
calm of a poetic sadness is expressed in the pages of 
Cavendish's Memoir. Wolsey has become to him 
a type of the vanity of human endeavor, and points 
the moral of the superiority of a quiet life with God 
over the manifold activities of an aspiring ambition. 
But Cavendish did not live to see the time when 
such a sermon, preached on such a text, was likely 
to appeal to many hearers. His work remained in 
manuscript, of which copies circulated amongst a 
few. One such copy, it is clear, must have reached 
the hands of Shakespeare, who, with his usual quick- 
ness of perception, condensed as much as his public 
could understand into his portrait of Wolsey in the 
play of Henry VIII. When the Memoir was first 
printed in 1641 it was garbled for party purposes. 
The figure of Wolsey was long left to the portrai- 
ture of prejudice, and he was regarded only as the 
type of the arrogant ecclesiastic whom it was the 
great work of the Eeformation to have rendered im- 
possible in the future. Wolsey, the most patriotic 
of Englishmen, was branded as the minion of the 
Pope, and the upholder of a foreign despotism. 
When Fiddes, in 1724, attempted, on the strength 



316 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

of documents, to restore Wolsey to his due position 
amongst England's worthies, he was accused of 
Popery. IsTot till the mass of documents relating to 
the reign of Henry YIII. was published did it be- 
come possible for Dr. Brewer ^ to show the signifi- 
cance of the schemes of the great cardinal, and to 
estimate his merits and his faults. 

* John Slierren Brewer (1810-1879) was educated at Ox- 
ford, where he was famous for the wide range of his reading. 
After various employments, which included tutoring, a 
chaplaincy, and work in the British Museum, he was in 1839 
appointed lecturer in classical literature at King's College, 
London, and in 1855 he succeeded his friend F. D. Maurice 
as professor of the English language and literature and 
lecturer in modern history, in the same institution. In 1865 
he was commissioned to prepare a calendar of the state papers 
of Henry VIII., a work of great labor and for which he had 
peculiar fitness. In this work he continued till the day of 
his death. To him therefore England is largely indebted for 
general and accurate information upon the events of that 
period. 



CHAPTER XI. 



THE WOKK OF WOLSEY. 



<* No statesman of such eminence ever died less 
lamented," is Dr. Brewer's remark on Wolsev's 
death. Indeed, the king had forgotten his old ser- 
vant; his enemies rejoiced to be rid of a possible 
rival; the men whom he had trained in politics 
were busy in seeking their own advancement, which 
was not to be promoted by tears for a fallen minis- 
ter ; the people had never loved him, and were in- 
different about one who was no longer powerful. 
In a time of universal uncertainty every one was 
speculating on the future, and saw that the future 
was not to be determined by Wolseyorby Wolsey's 
ideas. Not without reason has the story of Wolsey's 
fall passed into a parable of the heartlessness of the 
world. 

For Wolsey lived for the world as few men have 

ever done ; not for the larger world of intellectual 

thought or spiritual aspiration, but for the actual, 

immediate world of affairs. He limited himself to 

317 



318 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

its problems, but within its limits he took a wider 
and juster view of the problems of his time than 
any English statesman has ever done. For politics 
in the largest sense, comprising all the relations of 
the nation at home and abroad, Wolsey had a capac- 
ity which amounted to genius, and it is doubtful if 
this can be said of any other Englishman. There 
have been many capable administrators, many ex- 
cellent organizers, many who bravely faced the diffi- 
culties of their time, many who advocated particu- 
lar reforms and achieved definite results. But Wol- 
sey aimed at doing all these things together and 
more. Taking England as he found her, he aimed 
at developing all her latent possibilities, and leading 
Europe to follow in her train. In this project there 
was nothing chimerical or fantastic, for Wolsey' s 
mind was eminently practical. Starting from the 
existing condition of affairs, he made England for a 
time the center of European politics, and gave her 
an influence far higher than she could claim on ma- 
terial grounds. Moreover, his far-reaching schemes 
abroad did not interfere with strict attention to the 
details of England's interests. His foreign policy 
was to promote English trade, facilitate the union of 
Scotland, keep peace at small expense, prepare the 
way for internal re-organization, and secure the right 



THE WORK OF WOLSEY. 319 

of dealing judiciously with ecclesiastical reform. 
Wolsey's plans all hung together. However ab- 
sorbed he might be in a particular point it was only 
part of a great design, and he used each advantage 
which he gained as a means of strengthening Eng- 
land's position for some future undertaking. He 
had a clear view of the future as a Avhole ; he knew 
not only what he wished to make of England but of 
Europe as well. He never worked at a question 
from one motive only ; what failed for one purpose 
was made useful for another ; his resources were not 
bounded by the immediate result. 

Politics to him was not a pursuit, it was a pas- 
sion. He loved it as an artist loves his art, for he 
found in it a complete satisfaction for his nature. 
All that was best, and all that was worst, in Wolsey 
sprang from this exceptional attitude towards state- 
craft, which he practised with enthusiasm, not in 
the spirit of cold calculation. The world is accus- 
tomed to statesmen who clothe the results of calcu- 
lation in the language of enthusiasm; Wolsey's 
language was practical and direct, his passionate as- 
pirations were restrained within his own bosom. 

Thus there is a largeness and distinction about 
Wolsey's aims, a far-reaching patriotism, and an 
admirable lucidity. He was indeed a political artist, 



320 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

who worked with a free hand and a certain touch. 
He was absorbed in his art as a painter over his 
picture, and he did not shrink as the full size of his 
canvas was gradually unrolled. He set himself to 
dominate Europe, and was fearless and self-con- 
tained. He gave himself entirely to his work, and 
in his eyes the nobility of his end justified any 
means. But he was sensitive, as all artists are, 
and could not work under cramped conditions. 
When he was restricted to the small matter of the 
divorce his hand lost its cunning. He was, though 
he knew it not, fitted to serve England, but not 
fitted to serve the English king. He had the aims 
of a national statesman, not of a royal servant. 

Wolsey's misfortune was that his lot was cast 
on days when the career of a statesnian was not 
distinct from that of a royal servant. He owed 
his introduction to politics solely to royal favor, and 
neither had nor could obtain any other warrant for 
his position. For good or evil England was identi- 
fied with her king, and it was long before it could be 
otherwise. Certainly Wolsey had no wish that it 
should be otherwise, and his subservience to the 
royal will seems to us to be unworthy of his great- 
ness. But Wolsey associated his political life with 
the king's goodwill, and Henry was to him a sym- 



THE WORK OF WOLSEY. 321 

bol of all that was best and most intelligent in Eng- 
land. His deviations from his own policy in obedi- 
ence to the king were not more degrading or more 
inevitable than are the calculations of the modern 
statesman about the exact limits of the field of prac- 
tical politics. A statesman has not only to form 
projects, he has to secure a force behind him which 
will enable him to give them effect. Each age 
recognizes this fact, and acts accordingly. There 
is nothing more intrinsically base in Wolsey's sub- 
servience to the royal will than in the efforts of 
modern statesmen to bid against one another for 
an opportunity of carrying out what they think to 
be the will of the people. ISTo politician has a 
complete command of his field of action ; his 
high-mindedness and purity must be tested by the 
degree of compromise Avhich consciously or uncon- 
sciously he makes between his love of power and 
his knowledge or his conscience. The utmost that 
can be demanded of him is that he should not, to 
keep his place, deliberately act contrary to what he 
believes to be wise or knows to be right. 

In his general conduct of politics Wolsey was true 
to his principles, and though occasionally thwarted, 
he still pursued the same ends. The matter of the 
divorce was sprung upon him, and it would have 

21 



322 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

been well for Wolsey's fame if he had retired rather 
than involve himself in the unworthy proceedings to 
which it led. But the temptation to all men to 
think themselves necessery in the sphere which they 
have made their own is a subtle one; and those who 
begin by hoping that they may minimize inevitable 
mischief, end by being dragged into the mire. To 
a statesman this temptation is great in proportion to 
the largeness of his ultimate aim. He resents that 
his schemes should be ruined by a temporary de- 
rangement of the perspective of affairs ; he believes 
that his practised hand can easily solve a trumpery 
difficulty; the excellence of his intentions in the 
long-run justifies an occasional sacrifice on the 
shrine of present necessity. If he does some things 
amiss, after all he is not responsible for them ; they 
are disagreeable incidents in his tenure of office. 

So Wolsey regarded the divorce ; and he is not 
greatly to be blamed for agreeing to promote it. 
He saw great national advantages in a divorce ; he 
knew that it would be well for England if Henry 
YIII. left male issue ; he did not like the political 
influence of Katharine ; he saw that Henry was not 
likely to be happy in her society. It would have 
been difficult for him to find in the proposal itself a 
sufficient reason for withdrawing from politics even 



THE WORK OF WOLSEY. 323 

if he could have done so with safety. Not even 
Wolsey could foresee the king's obstinacy and tenac- 
ity of purpose, the depth of meanness to which he 
would sink, and to which he would drag all around 
him. Wolsey found himself powerless to resist, and 
the growing consciousness of moral turpitude 
practised to no purpose degraded him in his own 
eyes and robbed him of his strength. When once 
the divorce question was started Wolsey was pushed 
on to his ruin by a power of imperious wickedness 
which debased others without losing its own self- 
respect. The dictates of public opinion are, after 
all, not so very different from the commands of an 
absolute king. Both may destroy their victims, 
and go on their own way with heads erect. 

So when we speak of the fall of Wolsey we mean 
more than his irrevocable loss of power. He had 
lost his inner strength, and no longer kept his hold 
upon affairs. He knew that he was sullied and un- 
nerved; that he had sunk from the position of a 
leader to that of one who tremblingly follows and 
devises shifty plans that he may still exercise the 
semblance of his old authority. He knew that in 
his negotiations about the divorce he staked every- 
thing that he had gained, and that the result, what- 
ever it was, would be disastrous to his great designs. 



324: LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

If he had succeeded he would have degraded the 
Papacy; and when Henry had once learned how 
easy it was for him to get his own way, he would 
have used his knowledge to the full, and "Wolsey 
would have been powerless to direct him. When 
Wolsey became the instrument of the king's self- 
will, he hoped that a few disappointments would 
wear out his obstinacy ; when he saw Henry's grow- 
ing resoluteness and complete self-will he knew that 
for himself the future was hopeless. Still he had 
not the magnanimity to resign himself to his disap- 
pointment. He clung to power when power had 
ceased to be useful for his plans. He clung to 
poAver, because the habits of ofl&ce had become to 
him a second nature. He vainly strove to find 
satisfaction in the discharge of his episcopal duties ; 
he vainly tried to content himself with the simple 
affairs of simple men. He had given himself en- 
tirely to the material world, and had estranged him- 
self from the spiritual world, which was to him thin 
and unsubstantial to the last. He could not refrain 
from casting longing glances behind him, and his 
last days are pitiable. The words of the dying man 
are often quoted as showing the misery of those who 
trust in princes' favor. But they are not merely an 
echo of a far-off state of things which has passed by 



THE WORK OF WOLSEY. 325 

forever. ''To serve one's country" may have a 
loftier and more noble sound than "to serve one's 
king," but the meaning is not necessarily different. 
The thought in Wolsey's heart was this — " If I had 
served the spiritual interests of my country as I have 
striven to serve its material interests my conscience 
would be more at rest. ' ' For Wolsey was a true 
patriot, and had noble aims. Much as he might 
deaden his conscience, he did not extinguish it ; and 
his last judgment of himself expressed the sad con- 
viction that neither his patriotism nor the nobilit}^ 
of his aims had saved him from actions, which he 
could not justify, and which his conscience loudly 
condemned. 

We have called Wolsey a political artist: and 
this, which makes his career attractive, is the secret 
of his unpopularity. Wolsey's designs did not 
arise from the pressure of absolute necessity, and 
their ipeaning was not apparent to his contempo- 
raries. Englishmen thought then, as they think 
now, that England should disregard foreign affairs 
and develop her own resources ; or if foreign affairs 
are undertaken they demand the success of English 
arms, and claim to be repaid in current coin or pal- 
pable advantages. Wolsey believed that the es- 
tablishment of England's power on the Continent 



326 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

was necessary for the increase of English trade, and 
was a preliminary for the wise solution of those 
questions which were most urgent in domestic poli- 
tics. He was the last English statesman of the old 
school, which regarded England not as a separate 
nation, but as an integral part of Western Christen- 
dom. He did not look upon questions as being 
solely English questions : he did not aim merely at 
reforming English monasteries or asserting a new 
position for the English Church. But he thought 
that England was ripe for practically carrying out 
reforms which had long been talked of, and remedy- 
ing abuses which had long been lamented ; and he 
hoped that England in these respects would serve 
as a model to the rest of Europe. Only if England 
was in full accord with European sentiment, was 
powerful, and was respected, could this be done. 
Wolsey did not prefer foreign politics on their own 
account, but he found them to be the necessary pre- 
liminary for any lasting work on the lines which 
he contemplated. As regards Church matters he 
was strictly practical. He had no belief in reform- 
ing councils, or pragmatic sanctions, or Galilean 
liberties; he cared little for England's weapon of 
^Tcemunire. He did not look upon the Pope as a 
powerful adversary who was to be held at arm's. 



THE WORK OF WOLSEY. 327 

length ; he regarded hun as a man to be managed 
and converted into a useful aUy. Wolsey was en- 
tirely Erastian. Power was to him the important 
thing in human affairs, and all power was the same ; 
he believed much more in the divine right of Henry 
YIII. than in the divine right of Clement YII. 
merely because Henry's power seemed to him prac- 
tically to be greater. However poetical "Wolsey 's 
main ideas might be, he had no illusions about the 
actual facts of politics. 

The Englishmen of his own day did not appre- / 
ciate Wolsey 's aims, and supposed that his foreign! 
policy was for the gratification of his own vanity, 
or was the result of a desire to gain the Papacy. 
'No one understood him in his own time. He bore 
the burden of everything that was done, and all 
the causes of popular discontent were laid at his 
door. If the loyalty of Wolsey seems strange to 
our eyes, still more inexplicable is the loyalty of the 
English people, who could believe in Henry's good 
intentions, and could suppose that he was entirely 
ruled by Wolsey contrary to his own inclinations. 
Wolsey was universally hated ; by the nobles as an 
upstart, by the people as a tyrant, by Churchmen as 
a dangerous reformer, by the Lutherans as a rank 
Papist, While he was in power he kept in restraint 



328 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

various elements of disorder ; but he shared the fate 
of those who rule without identifying themselves 
with any party. When his power came to an end 
no minister could assume his place or pick up the 
threads which fell from his hands. It was left to 
Henry YIII., who had learned more from Wolsey 
than anyone else, to direct England's fortunes on a 
lower level of endeavor. We may admire his clear 
head and his strong hand ; we may even prefer the 
results of his solution to those which Wolsey would 
have wrought; but we must confess that personal 
motives held the chief place in his mind, and that 
considerations of the common weal came only in 
the second place. For Henry YIII. abandoned 
Wolsey 's idea of a European settlement of ecclesi- 
astical questions, and gradually undertook a national 
settlement on lines drawn solely with reference to 
his own desires and his own interest. In this 
simpler matter it Avas possible for him to enjoy some 
measure of success, and this was chiefly due to the 
preparation which Wolsey had made. For the work 
of a statesmen is never entirely thrown away ; if 
his own plans fail, he leaves the way open for 
others who may use his means for v/idely different 
ends. 

Wolsey was the creator of the forces which- 



THE WORK OF WOLSEY. 329 

worked the great change in England in the sixteenth 
century. He obtained for England a position in 
the esteem of Europe which he had meant to use 
for the direction of Europe generally. Henry used 
that position for the assertion of England's right to 
settle its own affairs for itself; and the position 
proved strong enough to ward off foreign interfer- 
ence, and to carry England safely through the first 
period of a dangerous crisis. It was because Wol- 
sey had laid a sure foundation that England emerged 
from her separatist policy, isolated, it is true, but 
not excluded from European influence. Again, 
Wolsey exalted the royal power, because he be- 
lieved that it alone could rise above the separate in- 
terests of classes, and could give a large expression 
to the national weal. Henry profited by Wolsey's 
labors to pursue exclusively his own interests, yet he 
learned enough to interweave them dexterously with 
some national interests in such a way that they could 
not practically be disentangled, and that he had suf- 
ficient adherents to put down opposition when it 
arose. Even the preliminary steps which Wolsey 
had taken were carefully followed. His scheme for 
the gradual conversion of monasteries into more 
useful institutions was revived, and men believed 
that it would be imitated : the very agents that he 



330 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 

had trained for the work of turning monasteries into 
educational establishments were employed in sweep- 
ing the monastic revenues into the royal coffers. So 
it was with all other things. Henry learned Wol- 
sey's methods, and popularized Wolsey's phrases. 
He clothed his own self-seeking with the dignity of 
Wolsey's designs; the hands were the hands of 
Henry, but the voice was an echo of the voice of 
Wolsey. 

The new England that was created in the sixteenth 
century was strangely unlike that which Wolsey had 
dreamed of, yet none the less it was animated by 
his spirit. His ideal of England, influential in 
Europe through the mediatorial policy which her 
insular position allowed her to claim, prosperous at 
home through the influence which she obtained by 
her far-sighted wisdom and disinterestedness — -this 
is Wolsey's permanent contribution to the history 
of English politics.* 

* The estimate of the character and work of Wolsey, as 
given in this chapter, is judicious. Nevertheless it may 
interest the reader to compare certain other comments, which 
are accordingly added here. 

Lingard says: "The best eulogy on his character is to be 
found in the contrast in the conduct of Henry before and 
after the cardinal's fall. As long as Wolsey continued in 
favor, the royal passions were confined within certain bounds ; 
the moment his influence was extinguished, they burst 



THE WORK OF WOLSEY. 331 

through every restraint and by their caprice and violence 
alarmed his subjects and astonished the other nations of 
Europe." 

J. R. Green, on the other hand, after quoting Wolsey's 
words ("And, Master Knyghton, had I but served God as 
diligently as I have served the king, He would not have 
given me over in my grey hairs. But this is my due re- 
ward for my pains and study, not regarding my service to 
God, but only my duty to my prince.") Adds: '-No words 
could paint with so terrible a truthfulness the spirit of the 
new despotism which Wolsey had done more than any of 
those who went before him to build up. All sense of loyalty 
to England, to its freedom, to its institutions, had utterly 
passed away. The one duty which a statesman owed was 
a duty to his "prince," a prince whose personal will and 
appetite was overriding the highest interests of the State, 
trampling under foot the wisest councils, and crushing with 
the blind ingratitude of Fate the servants who opposed him. 
But even Wolsey, while he recoiled from the monstrous form 
which had revealed itself, could hardly have dreamed of the 
work of destruction which the royal courage, and yet more 
the royal appetite of his masters was to accomplish in the 
years to come." 

To the present writer it seems as if Wolsey narrowly missed 
being one of the greatest men in all the history of England ; 
but that, having missed that high possibility ; his influence 
was on the whole pernicious to a degree. 

The evil that men do lives after them, 
The good is oft interred with their bones. 

So was it with Wolsey. 

THE END. 



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